


With Age Comes ... Absurdity?

by animeotaku20



Series: When Harry Met Regulus (In the Past) [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Harry is Still a Little Shit, M/M, Mpreg, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 08:44:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15263733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animeotaku20/pseuds/animeotaku20
Summary: SEQUEL to 'A Second Chance at Happiness? Maybe?' Stopping a war was surprisingly easy. Falling in love and getting married was even easier. (Sort of.) Being an adult and living life should be smooth sailing ... right? Getting older totally made you wiser, meaning Harry and Regulus' lives together will of course get easier as they go along. Can they ever have a normal life, or is their version of normal just absurd?





	1. Where did that come from?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own 'Harry Potter'

Harry looked around and tried not to roll his eyes. His Gryffindor ancestors were probably rolling in their graves right now.

His new bedroom, the one which he shared with his husband – and he still couldn’t stop the silly grin at the knowledge he was a married man – was the quintessential Slytherin room. Green and silver were everywhere, from the duvet to the drapes on the four-poster bed, to the pale green wallpaper with silver accents, even the rug on the floor and the armchairs next to the fireplace were full of snake pride.

Regulus maintained the colours matched their eyes but Harry called bullshit. He'd seen the man’s room at Grimmauld Place, after all.

He swept his eyes around the Slytherin room – and bloody hell, surely there was a thing as too much House pride – and turned around, walking through the door into the hallway of their new home. Apparently Melania was something of an interior decorator, that or she just liked to mother her family – Harry could attest to the insane woman’s nature, he was actually starting to become desensitised to people jumping out at him from the way she kept appearing out of nowhere and hugging him to death – but the woman had quite happily done up one of the older Black houses for he and Regulus to live in, beaming as she watched them move in.

Though that probably had to do with there being close to twenty bedrooms. Not that he was analysing that thought. Nope. Not at all.

(He couldn’t stop thinking about it.)

Oak Haven was a small manor house – and the Blacks had a very different definition to the word ‘small’ than Harry did; the place was massive! Stupid rich pure-bloods – in the countryside of Kent, tucked away from pretty much any neighbours for several miles and sat underneath every concealing spell and enchantment the Blacks could think of. There was no such thing as paranoid when everyone wanted to get back at you. (It was a sentiment Harry could relate to.)

The house was beautiful, with extensive gardens, a conservatory, large sprawling dining rooms and sitting rooms, with a small library and study on the top floor accessible only to he and Regulus. He did think having a three-story house with eighteen bedrooms was a little excessive, but apparently this was extremely tame compared to some people. (Remembering the maze that was Black Manor, he could guess what was normal.)

But the bedrooms. The bedrooms were the issue. It wasn’t necessarily the rooms themselves, it was what they represented. How they would come to be filled in years to come, either by the insane number of Black cousins descending on their home to ‘visit’ – _calling bullshit again, those fuckers don’t turn up for no reason_ – or other guests staying with them …

Or with children.

Harry was vaguely terrified of the idea of having children. Oh, he definitely wanted them, and he especially wanted them with the man he loved, but after his own horrendous childhood he didn’t exactly have the best reference for how to care for children. Andromeda might have helped him when he babysat Teddy but that hadn’t been full-time. What if he hurt them? What if he messed them up mentally? What if –

A pair of arms slid round his waist from behind and cut off his inner panic, startling him and making him flinch before he consciously realised where he was and relaxed.

“Thinking deep thoughts, Husband?”

Harry felt himself blush once more and cursed that stupid bastard Charlus for making him paler than ever – _really need to get him back soon; maybe bald would be a good look for the git_ – as it was horrifically obvious his entire face was Gryffindor red. He couldn’t help it! Having such a stupidly attractive man look at him with lust and affection while talking to and holding him possessively gave him butterflies in his stomach. And injected a shot of concentrated energy into his libido, but then again he was still a teenager, sue him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He gasped with wide eyes at the feel of teeth dragging down the side of his neck and spun around, glaring up at that stupid self-satisfied smirk that was definitely not turning him on. Not all at. And he definitely didn’t want to turn around and readjust himself. Or just do it in front of Regulus in the hopes of –

_Shut up, Harry. Jesus Christ, I've turned into a walking ball of sex drive._

Grey eyes softened and Regulus held his waist again. “But seriously, what’s wrong?”

“... Do you think I’ll be a good father?”

Regulus blinked and stared at him as if he were stupid, and though he would usually be quite pissed off at having that look focused on him he really wanted a proper answer.

“Regulus, I’m being serious,” he muttered.

“Harry,” his husband began, “I’ve seen you with Marcus, and I saw you at the wedding with all the children. Even when they played up you weren’t angry or violent, you didn’t raise your voice, and you were firm but kind. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll be a fantastic father.”

The taller man finished by leaning down and sealing their lips together, pushing firmly but keeping the gesture entirely chaste in the wake of their conversation.

A few seconds later Regulus pulled back and looked him in the eye. “Why do you even have to ask this?”

“You know what my childhood was like.”

A flash of fury went through grey eyes. “They should be dead for what they did.”

“And that’s why I won’t tell you where they live,” he deadpanned.

“I could always track them down through Evans and –”

Harry cut him off by kissing him, plastering his body to Regulus’ and licking into his mouth with far more passion than before. He ran his hands up the other man’s arms and lightly dragged his nails the way Regulus liked it before pulling back with a smirk.

“You could, _or_ you could help me christen all the rooms in our new home. There are quite a few.”

Silver eyes darkened at the prospect and Harry grinned. Just because he was scared of being a parent didn’t mean things would go wrong.

 _Besides_ , he thought as he was held tightly and pulled towards the conservatory, _we’ve got a lot of work to do before we even have a baby._

Work he was quite happy to do.

* * *

“Regulus?”

“Hmm?”

“Just a quick question, but who exactly has access to this house? I mean, who can get in like right now?”

Regulus turned to his husband with a smirk. “Nobody. Usually the wards are set to allow a specific set of individuals entrance to our home, but earlier I raised them to block all entrance from anyone. Before I came to find you, that is.”

Harry smiled bemusedly. “Were you planning on us shagging in here?”

“I was actually imagining a bed, but I shan’t complain despite the change in location.”

The green-eyed man rolled his eyes and snorted before laying back and stretching his arms above his shoulders. Regulus _definitely_ couldn’t complain, not with that view anyway. Harry was entirely naked – as Regulus wished he would be more often, but unfortunately common decency dictated otherwise, not to mention he’d probably hex someone dead if they caught sight of his husband in the nude – and was laying on the floor of their redecorated conservatory, completely open to Regulus’ gaze.

He had more than a few scars, the most noticeable ones being a dark oval just over his sternum and two gashes on his arm. The infamous locket which would have prevented them from ever meeting – he rather wished he could burn it to ashes once more – a Necromancy ritual, and a thousand-year-old basilisk which was apparently slumbering underneath the castle at this very moment. (He wondered if Salazar Slytherin had actually had any common sense.)

There was another lightening-shaped scar over his heart, identical to the one on his brow, and Regulus couldn’t help but twitch for his wand whenever he realised that Harry had taken on two separate Killing Curses and lived to tell the tale. He’d like to think that Harry being married to him would curb some of his impulsive behaviour which lead to said situations, but he was more than aware it seemed to be the other way around; instead of Regulus muting Harry’s insanity, Harry’s madness was eroding his composure. (He would complain, but fantasising about what his mother would say if she could see his antics now was fast becoming one of his favourite pastimes.)

The sunlight was streaming in through the glass ceiling and playing across the smaller man’s skin, the pale tone almost glowing under it’s warm caress. He could see various plants and flowers around the room behind Harry, and once more he was struck with how utterly blessed he was to have such a captivating and beautiful man as his own.

Regulus blinked and tried not to groan. _Merlin, I really need to stop waxing poetic like an angst-riddled fool. Or a preteen girl._

He shook of that ghastly thought – he was not _that_ bad, thank you very much – and turned sideways from his own position on the floor so he could study his husband without straining his neck.

“Did you wish to go anywhere tomorrow? We don’t have any plans yet.”

Harry smiled with his eyes closed, looking extraordinarily relaxed for once. (Not that Regulus was smug or anything. It wasn’t as if he was the sole cause of the other man’s bliss, and of _course_ he wasn’t bordering on egotistical when it came to examining his husband’s current state. Not at all.)

“I was thinking we could to Diagon. Your dad’s birthday’s coming up, and maybe he won’t be as wary of his new son-in-law if I get him something suitably overpriced. He probably thinks I’m sleeping with you for money at the moment, and I’d quite like to get in his good graces to be honest. He doesn’t quite scare the shit out of me like your grandfather, but he makes me twitch way too much to be comfortable. I swear, you wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve nearly thrown a curse in your dad’s face; he really needs to stop materialising out of thin air.”

Regulus snorted and rolled his eyes at Harry’s grin even if he couldn’t see him. His father wasn’t that bad, though he would definitely agree that Arcturus Black was a terrifying man. Harry was also probably right about his father’s thoughts though. Orion hadn’t had a chance to really get to know Harry, so maybe an extravagant birthday gift would disabuse his father of the notion that he was being used for money.

He mentally paused and reviewed both his thoughts and Harry’s words. While it was true that the Potter family was by no means destitute – they would have been a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight if Harry’s great-grandfather Henry hadn’t offended the House of Nott by being so blunt; the blood of the Potters ran true, indeed – but he’d never heard of Harry visiting Gringotts or going to see Charlus for money, so he had to be carrying some on him. Though he had to be running low, what with their various shopping trips and escapades on their honeymoon.

At least, that was what common sense _should_ tell him.

However, during the past month and a half he’d been repeatedly rammed over the head with the fact that common sense didn’t belong anywhere in the vicinity of his shorter husband. Harry Potter or Hadrian Black nee Potter, his legal name meant nothing in the face of the insanity he attracted like a magnet, and Regulus had a sinking feeling that the smaller man had once more ended up in a situation he really shouldn’t be in, either through deliberately – and probably cheerfully – ignoring any semblance of logic, or stumbling into it through sheer dumb luck.

“Harry?”

“Regulus?”

“How much money do you have on you?”

Green eyes shot open as Harry froze, his verdant orbs swinging over to Regulus’ grey set before shooting to the side as Harry studiously avoided eye contact with a vaguely guilty look on his face.

“... Um, well, you see … I mean, about that …”

As he trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck, Regulus was once more reminded of his previous thought that life with Harry would never be boring.

_Though at this rate I’m going to be grey before I’m twenty._

* * *

Regulus looked out at the shining and glittering sea before him and tried to decide whether sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose was the appropriate response to this situation, or if he should go with what his elevated heart rate wanted and keel over in a dead faint after hyperventilating at what was before his eyes.

He honestly couldn’t tell which was better right now.

Ever since he’d met Harry he’d known, even if only subconsciously to begin with, that the other man had a tendency to exist in the realm of ‘what the fuck?’ Time travelling two decades into the past, being a bloody Parselmouth – _still need to figure out where that came from_ – not to mention having the Deathly Hallows just _sat_ in his pockets, there seemed to be no end to the insanity that Harry could experience.

He'd – rather foolishly, looking back in hindsight – decided that being married and them spending practically every waking moment together without anything untoward happening meant that Harry’s luck had shifted from downright bat-shit crazy to just slightly odd.

He should have known better.

“Husband?”

“Yes my darling husband that I love so much, partly because he loves me despite the craziness that surrounds me?”

Regulus snorted. “Trying to butter me up won’t help your case, Harry.” He turned to Harry and raised a brow, absently gesturing to the cavern behind him. “What is this?”

“Er … my money? And some bits and pieces I own?”

He would not be swayed by his cute husband, he was a Black, and he had some composure, damn it! (If only he could find said composure in the presence of his husband.)

“Harry. Be truthful.”

The smaller man slumped a little. “Yeah, yeah … Okay, you know about the dragon … _thing_ , right?"

“Thing?” He looked at Harry bemusedly.

“Regulus,” Harry glared, “we’re literally in Gringotts right now. Who knows how secure this vault is? They could literally be listening to us right now, and I’d rather not accumulate any more enemies right this second.

“And don’t look at me like that, compared to how paranoid your family are about protecting what they’ve got, I'm practically apathetic!”

The taller man tried not to grin in the face of his husband’s vehemence knowing it wouldn’t go down very well, not to mention that Harry made a decent point. The House of Black were vicious in hoarding and guarding their assets, and Harry not wanting the goblins to realise he’d robbed them and freed a dragon in the future was a wise decision.

But Harry’s panic was still hilarious.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, I remember the dragon thing.”

Harry huffed at him but proceeded anyway. “After everything calmed down, the … employees weren’t exactly happy with me, so I had to, er … take my business elsewhere, as it were. Unfortunately, I didn’t know of anywhere else that carried out the same … services, so I was forced to basically clear everything out. I didn’t know where to put everything, so the woman I was living with helped me carry everything in a … special bracelet she found in my house.”

_So what you’re saying is you’ve been carrying around the combined Potter and Black vaults – close to a million galleons – in a dangerous bracelet you found in Grimmauld Place which Andromeda spelled to help you._

Regulus valiantly resisted the urge to shut his eyes tightly at this madness and instead turned back to survey Harry’s new vault.

Piles upon piles of gold were stacked in this section of the vault, reaching from floor to ceiling as the shiny gold coins practically mocked Regulus with their existence. The piles of silver and bronze weren’t much less, and Harry was essentially set for the next several lifetimes if he so wished.

The next room of the vault really did make his heart want to give out though, especially upon imagining what his grandfather Arcturus would say if he could see the room.

The Black heirlooms.

Well, to be more precise it was a room filled with heirlooms from both the Potter and Black families which had apparently been magically doubled with Harry’s trip through time, the second version now happily collecting dust in the vault of a man who probably didn’t entirely know – or care – how much some of these things were worth.

Regulus poked his head around to see a pair of antique Vanishing Cabinets that dated back to the seventeenth century and tried not to do something stupid like whimper in phantom mental pain.

Or maybe it was real mental pain, he honestly couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

“Sorry.”

He turned to see Harry staring at the floor while chewing his lip, the defeated slump to his shoulders making him look utterly miserable. The sight made Regulus’ stomach churn uncomfortably, so he walked over and gently grabbed Harry’s arms to get his attention.

“For what?”

“For everything?” Harry gestured around helplessly. “My life’s mad, and I keep dragging you into every mess that I end up in. I just –”

Regulus kissed him hard before pulling back. “Harry, shut up.”

At the gaping mouth he smirked. “Harry, in case you managed to miss it – though perhaps the endless sex has simply messed with your brain – we're actually married. You know, partners? As in we do and share everything together.

“I’m not going to lie and say that I don’t find your luck perplexing or bewildering – I'm genuinely certain that you were the victim of some curse of luck at one moment or another – but that doesn’t mean I mind. Truthfully I’m glad for the variety to our lives, monotony is a terrible way to live.”

Harry just stared at him for a moment before snorting and shaking his head, muttering under his breath about stupid Blacks and their penchant for craziness. It was a rather adorable sight, truth be told.

He could do without the comparisons to his idiot brother, though.

“Harry, I really don’t care about you having this much money, I mean if anything it would be helpful not to be so reliant on others for financial assistance.”

He paused for a moment before picturing his family.

“But for the love of everything, please don’t tell people you have the Black heirlooms sitting in your vault.”

Harry just raised a brow. “Do I look stupid?”

“You look like you’d enjoy taunting some of my relatives just for the entertainment.”

His husband went to speak before closing his mouth, and a moment later met Regulus’ eyes with a wry grin.

_He would, wouldn’t he?_

Regulus huffed and shook his head.

Life with Harry was completely absurd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> Hey guys, and welcome back to my insanity! Sorry for making everyone wait, but hopefully it wasn't too long. Maybe?
> 
> As I mentioned on the previous story, this fic will be predominantly slice-of-life moments without an overarching story. It's just whatever I can think of for Harry and Regulus and their lives.
> 
> Hopefully I'll manage to update once a week, but there might be times that's too difficult, in which case it'll be once every two weeks. I'll try, I promise!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you next time.
> 
> Bye! :D


	2. Wait, how long ago?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own 'Harry Potter'

Harry stood looking at the glass tank in front of him with a contemplative expression.

It was always something that had made him different, made him stand out from his peers when all he wanted to do was blend into the crowd and be a normal boy with normal problems, not someone that had an unsettling connection to one of the evilest people in their society. He'd never wanted to be unique and different, and embracing that part of him at this moment would finally be admitting to himself that he _was_ different. Not something he was too keen on.

But then again, the potential to fuck with people was far too high to pass up.

Harry turned around to his husband and nodded decisively. “I want one.”

Regulus paused in his browsing of the shelves and looked at his husband with a brow raised in question before he tilted his head to see behind the smaller man. One glance at what was resting behind the glass and grey eyes widened and Regulus blanched slightly.

He looked at Harry flatly. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Do you even know what that is?” Regulus asked while gesturing behind Harry.

An affronted look was on the time traveller’s face at that. “Do I look stupid?”

“Harry.”

“What?”

Regulus sighed and pinned him with a beseeching look. “Why exactly do you want a snake?”

Harry grinned widely. “Two reasons; one: because I am one hundred percent sure it will listen to me and understand me when I tell it something –”

“Of course it will, you speak _snake_ language,” came the muttered reply.

"– and two: think about how fun it’ll be to have a ready and willing ally to mess with people. Like Charlus. Or Alphard. To be quite frank, I’m getting sick of the belated congratulations cards with dirty limericks in them. Where the fuck did the two of them find muggle limericks, anyway?”

“I’d really rather not know,” Regulus said dryly, more than likely also remembering the pile of garish cards spelled to sing out filthy jokes when they were opened. Thank fuck they hadn’t opened any around Marcus, though imagining what Dorea would do to his idiot adoptive father if they had made him want to cackle and take pictures of the resulting violence. Maybe he should arrange something with her, she seemed the type to enjoy her husband’s pain …

“Stop plotting, Husband. And can we please get back to the matter of why you want a highly-dangerous creature?”

Harry pouted despite trying to resist grinning and snogging Regulus. Apparently it was bad manners to do that in public, though Harry thought that pure-bloods really needed to lighten the fuck up and admit that some of them actually liked their spouses. _Shock! Horror! You actually got married because of mutual_ feelings _?! How strange!_

Their world was a sad, sad place.

(Although when he thought about it, he did prefer snogging his husband at home. It was a beautiful and magical place, with so many amazing things like wards that kept every single person out and a fuck-ton of rooms with soft and comfortable surfaces to defile. Yep, his home was so much nicer.)

“I will have you know that I am not plotting in the slightest. Is there anything wrong with wanting to spend a little quality time with my beloved father’s wife? She really is an incredible witch, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Aunt Dorea is mad and she enables you too much,” his husband replied flatly. “And stop dodging the question; why do you want something so dangerous?”

“I’m not dodging anything, and I told you why. What's wrong with having a little fun and buying a pet?”

Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose and Harry had to bite his lip before he started grinning maniacally and sniggering. Regulus had become quite accustomed to Harry’s madness over the course of their time together, so much so that it was getting to be quite difficult to push him so far into exasperation. But Harry had succeeded once more. _That’s my job for the day done._

Was it terrible of him to want to mess with his own husband so much? Was he a horrible person? I mean, he was basically poking and prodding at Regulus’ mental buttons so much that he was inviting retribution.

… Though when he thought about what said retribution usually entailed in the privacy of their own home, he was quite happy to keep pushing. After all, their bed was _gloriously_ comfortable.

“Fun? You call a highly-venomous snake _fun_? You want one as a _pet_?”

“In my defence, that tiny little thing really doesn’t bother me after Voldy’s twelve-foot pet and the sixty-foot Basilisk chilling under the castle.”

The twitch he got at his words was fucking hilarious, as were the muttered words about the oversized snake in Hogwarts. (Apparently Regulus had developed something of an affinity for Fiendfyre if his quiet but fervent plans were any indication.)

“Harry. Just because a Boomslang is less than six-foot long and a non-magical creature doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous. It's incredibly fast and venomous, not to mention it’s physically strong and likes strangling people.”

Before Harry could reply, the hissing from behind him rose in volume and he snorted, a hand coming up to cover his mouth as he tried not to break down laughing in the middle of the Magical Menagerie.

He was definitely taking that snake home.

“I - I don’t think that’ll be a problem. He’s … he’s pretty damn desperate to leave right now,” Harry managed through his giggles and hiccoughing. He even had tears in his eyes at the sound of the desperate screams for freedom he could hear through the glass.

Nearly every snake or snake-related thing had been a total pain the arse over the course of Harry’s life, and the only time a snake had really made him happy had been when the boa constrictor snapped at Dudley and made him scream in terror, though even that was overshadowed by the fact he was locked up and practically starved for the following week – something he was _not_ going to mention to his dark and murderous husband, he wasn’t an _idiot_.

 _This_ snake though made his stomach hurt with how much he was laughing, and he could see a few people in his peripheral vision gawking at the fact that a Black spouse was acting so normal – and let’s be honest, a little mad – without censoring himself at all. Not to mention his actual Black husband was just stood there smirking at him in amusement as Harry laughed himself silly. (He kind of wished some of Regulus’ arsehole relatives could see them now, and he really didn’t care if that made him petty.)

An elegant brow raised in question was his response. “Oh? What do you mean by that?”

_§I’m begging you, let me out! She's insane, and she’s going to kill me, and I will not have hatchlings with her, I swear!§_

_§I don’t care what I have to do, I’ll even give up birds for life, but please don’t let her touch me!§_

_§Let me be free!!!§_

Harry had to breathe in carefully through his nose and out again to try and control himself at the paranoia of the nearly-six-foot snake behind him. The bright-green serpent was apparently terrified of the female in the tank next to him, especially as she kept hissing that they were going to be bought together and they could mate and have hatchlings afterwards. Something the male did _not_ want. He was even willing to forego eating birds forever – his absolute favourite meal – if someone would save him from the female’s company and buy him.

He was hilarious. And also kind of stupid.

Harry stepped closer and leant up on tip toes to whisper directly in Regulus’ ear word for word what the insane snake was shouting about, and when he pulled back he snorted quietly at the look of disbelief on his husband’s face. Yeah, the snake was whacked.

“I’d ask if you were sure, but I have no doubt you understood correctly. What a strange creature. Aren’t they supposed to be predators? Not sitting there shrieking for help and acting like a mad person.”

“Well, at least he’ll fit in with our family,” Harry murmured slyly.

Regulus side-eyed him with a flat expression before rolling his eyes. “Fine. I honestly don’t care as long as you tell him I’ll use him in my potions if he attacks and that the female isn’t coming with us.”

“Done.” He leant up and kissed Regulus on the cheek quickly before pulling back with a grin. “Thanks, Regulus.”

He turned back to the tank and beamed.

_This should be fun._

* * *

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

Regulus turned to see Harry flopped on his stomach flicking through a book on snake behaviour and dietary requirements – though it seemed their newly-named Ophiuchus didn’t care one bit about regular snake activity and happily curled up in front of the fire more often than not like a cat – absentmindedly muttering to himself about buying some rats for their serpent friend to eat.

It seemed seeing the small rodents devoured whole was rather therapeutic for his husband. Considering Pettigrew’s actions, he could understand why.

And really, he still couldn’t get over the bloody thing being called ‘Ophiuchus’. He loved Harry, but the man had a terrible sense of humour.

“ _Come on Regulus, he’s part of our family now so he needs a proper Black name! Besides, it’s either Ophiuchus or Serpens, and somehow I don’t think you want to name the snake the Greek equivalent of the word ‘snake’.”_

No, he didn’t, hence why Ophiuchus was chosen by default. He and Harry both had too much imagination to bequeath the name ‘Snake’ onto an actual snake. It was terribly unoriginal, not to mention comparable to a child naming a stuffed animal after the creature it depicted. So Ophiuchus it was, and the mad reptile quite happily slithered round their grounds singing the praises of Harry and Regulus for saving him from the mad female Boomslang in the shop. Or so Harry often told him while sniggering.

He wondered if this was what they’d be like with children.

Regulus cleared his throat. “Did you ever figure out where the Parselmouth ability came from?”

Harry paused and raised his head, blinking green eyes bewilderedly. “Actually, I didn’t.” He sat up cross-legged and looked at Regulus as he mused. “I mean, clearly it wasn’t because of the Horcrux because I’m happily Voldemort-free and can still talk to snakes.

“I’m more inclined to believe Andromeda’s theory that it was something passed down through the blood, but I honestly have no clue where it would have come in. Nobody’s ever mentioned anything about a Gaunt or Slytherin marrying into the family though, so it would have to be someone that changed their name or something that happened centuries ago. Though it if did happen so long ago, I don’t understand why I’m the only one that ended up being able to speak to snakes.”

His husband made a good point. The ability seemed to be akin to Family magic, meaning there was nothing inherently evil about the gift, just a rather unfortunate connotation to a Dark Lord and the Founder that left the others. If there had been a descendant or member of the Slytherin family marrying into the Potters it would have been common knowledge, at least it would have if it’d been recent. Perhaps some investigating wouldn’t go amiss …

Regulus met green eyes head on. “How far back does the tapestry at The Pottery go?”

“God knows. I was more distracted with trying to make sure I didn’t appear as James Potter’s son while being the same age as him.”

 _Thank fuck that didn’t happen_. Telling that particular Potter would have been a nightmare, and he would have involved his wife and Sirius, and Regulus probably would have been far too tempted to commit fratricide.

“Why don’t we go and have a look? If there is a Gaunt or Slytherin in your ancestry it would explain everything. I also have a theory concerning why only you are a Parselmouth and none of your relatives.”

Harry smirked. “Let me guess. This theory is something you won’t be sharing with me until you’re proven right.”

“Harry, darling,” he drawled playfully, “do I look like the type of person to give out false information? I'm simply saving you the trouble of exploring an untested hypothesis.”

“Of course. I'm ever so grateful for your kindness and forethought.” Harry really was a sarcastic little shit.

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, let’s go. It's not as if that book’s all that useful for the demented reptile outside, anyway.”

“I’ll have you know that Ophiuchus is just unique,” Harry sniffed in mock offence. “He’s much too amazing to have to act like his fellow snakes.”

_Sure, if ‘unique’ means ‘undiagnosed brain damage’._

His lips twitched. “If you say so. Are you ready?”

The smaller man stood up and sighed exaggeratedly. “So much for a day of peace. Let’s go!”

Before he could question his husband’s spontaneous enthusiasm, muscled arms wrapped around his waist tightly and he was whisked away by a quick Apparition.

When he could breathe without vomiting again, he was so going to hex Harry.

* * *

“Why are there so many names?!”

Grey eyes looked far too amused for his liking right now. “You do realise the Potters date all the way back to the twelfth century, don’t you? Some also had up to seven children. It’s no wonder we’ve been here for hours."

Harry glared at the smug git. “What happened to us being partners and equals? You're supposed to share in my misery, not make it worse!”

Regulus just smirked and leant over quickly, kissing Harry very deeply and thoroughly, making more than one of the surrounding portraits cheer and/or let out a lewd remark that he really wasn’t paying attention to. His husband’s tongue was far more interesting.

When he pulled back – much to Harry’s displeasure; what they were researching wasn’t nearly as interesting as the kissing, no doubt about it – Regulus smirked before pecking him on the nose. And yeah, it was bloody cute. And that shouldn’t make him love the other man just as much as the snogging, but it did, and Merlin he was hopeless, wasn’t he?

“Just think, we’ve only got four generations to go until we go back to the originator of the family.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, all the way back to the Peverells.”

“What?”

He looked up to see bewildered and shocked grey eyes looking at him intensely. “What’s wrong?”

“You said the Peverells. What did you mean by that?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Harry questioned with a frown. “The Peverells married into the Potter family right at the beginning. That's where the Potter Invisibility Cloak came from. The youngest of the three brothers, Ignotus Peverell, only had a granddaughter to pass the cloak onto, and she ended up marrying the eldest son of the first Potter. The cloak’s been passed down from each generation to the next for centuries since.”

“The Peverells were a medieval family, and even though they went extinct later than the Founders’ families, there was a period of time in which there was an overlap. There were also rumours of the different families marrying each other,” Regulus said as he spelled their stools higher so they could see the top of the tapestry.

As they came face to face with the very beginning of the family tapestry, they took a moment to be grateful that the magic of the artefact could also name the ancestors of those that had married into the family.

“There.”

Iolanthe Peverell, the granddaughter of Ignotus, had married Hardwin Potter, the eldest son of Linfred of Stinchcombe and had five children during their marriage. However, it seemed that Iolanthe was definitely one of the earliest examples – if not the first – of Potters marrying grey or dark magicals.

Iolanthe’s mother was born Alianor Slytherin.

Harry looked at the name and didn’t know what he should think about this. On the one hand, he shared very – thankfully _very_ – distant relations with Voldy, both through the Peverell and Slytherin lines, which was disgusting and gross and any other synonym he could think of, but on the other, this proved that Dumbledore was wrong beyond a shadow of a doubt. He shared blood with Salazar Slytherin himself so his abilities were entirely natural.

He _so_ wished he could rub it in the old goat’s face.

“Okay, first things first, we need to get back down on the ground. I don’t like being up this high when I’m not in control. Flying's one thing, but this thing feels like a bloody death trap. Secondly, let’s hear this theory of yours about how I inherited a magical ability from someone eight centuries in the past.”

Regulus rolled his eyes but obligingly lowered them to the ground slowly. Harry wasn’t joking about not liking heights like this. The bloody thing felt like it would shatter at any moment, and that wasn’t the afternoon with his husband he had in mind.

“Okay. The first and most important fact to remember is that you do indeed have a Slytherin in your ancestry, despite it being so long ago. Family magic can linger in the blood for centuries even if it seems strange to think about, so you already possessed the potential for such magic to awaken in you.

Regulus leant back against one the tables with his arms crossed. “The next piece of information that is imperative we keep in mind is that Voldemort’s mother was a Gaunt and he was born a Parselmouth. Despite bearing his father’s name, he was clearly a Gaunt in terms of magic. His connection to the Slytherin line was much closer than yours.

“Of course this is merely conjecture, but I do believe that him accidentally turning you into a Horcrux caused a magical reaction inside your body and forcibly awakened the dormant ability. A piece of his soul resided inside you, and it was a piece of soul from somebody that was a Parselmouth. That piece of soul interacted with a soul of someone that also had a connection to Slytherin, distant as it was, and drew out the magic both souls had in common.

“You said that the Horcrux warped your core from light to dark grey over time,” said the taller man as he gestured vaguely towards Harry’s torso, “meaning it also had the opportunity to warp other aspects of your magic.”

The library was silent in the wake of Regulus’ words and Harry took a moment to mull over his husband’s theory. There was complex magic involved, magic which neither of them had studied or ever would, and Regulus’ explanation was one in which it tested all sorts of rules and regulations of magic and what it should do.

It also tested common sense.

“That’s bullshit,” Harry replied flatly.

Regulus blinked incredulously. “I beg your pardon?”

“Magic doesn’t just give you a long-lost ability from a millennium ago because some idiot several hundred branches over on the family tree tries to kill you after doing some pretty stupid magic. It doesn’t work like that!”

“Right. Because accidentally smashing a mystical box and waking up two decades in the past is so much more ordinary. Please forgive my lapse of judgement,” Regulus deadpanned.

_Bastard. Why did he have to sound so logical?_

Harry snapped his mouth shut and glared off the side, ignoring his stupidly red cheeks as he conceded – at least in his mind – that the other man probably had a point. Maybe. Possibly.

… Why did he have to go and fall in love with a snarky git that was a genius?

He slumped and huffed over their – once more – messed up situation. “Okay, fine. You're probably right, so what did you want to do now?”

Harry felt more than saw Regulus come up behind him and slip warm arms around his waist and rested his chin on Harry’s shoulder.

“Nothing about your ability, but I thought I’d take my lovely husband up on his offer and commandeer our barmy new snake to terrify my uncle Alphard. After all, he _is_ coming to visit us today.”

Harry felt a grin spread across his face at the prospect of some fun and retribution. The crazy Black wouldn’t know what had hit him, and he couldn’t _wait_ for the Pensieve-worthy memories to unfold before him.

He turned and kissed Regulus on the cheek before grinning at him. “It’s a date.”

After all, he was a Black now. It would rude not to get to know his new family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Sorry this didn't come out sooner, apparently I'm so drained I can't even tell how many days or weeks are passing me by lol. I'll get a schedule up soon, I promise!
> 
> Quick question, does anyone know any good fics focusing on the Black family? I'm thinking of starting a Collection for a list of them. Not only do I get a few messages for recommendations, I'd also like to read a few more :)
> 
> Until next time!


	3. Well, this should be fun. Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own 'Harry Potter'

Harry looked around the table warily, taking in the numerous expressions of the people sat with him as he resisted the urge to Apparate the fuck away from this hassle and hole up in his home with all the wards up.

Bewildered, curious, guilty, frustrated … the occupants of their lunch table all looked to be on their own separate wavelength as they sat in painfully-awkward silence waiting for their food to appear and cut through the quiet. Harry was just hoping and praying that _something_ would happen to this god-awful tension, it was starting to give him a migraine.

His eyes caught the amused blue orbs of his adoptive father across the table and he glared, putting every ounce of anger and loathing he could muster into the look, though to his ever-growing rage the bastard just smirked back at him and lounged casually in his chair, one arm supporting his chin as he rested an elbow on the armrest, looking like he hadn’t a care in the world.

_You conniving wanker. You just wait until we’re in private, you piece of shit._

This entire disaster was the fault of Charlus Potter, and Harry was never, _ever_ going to let him forget it. All he’d wanted to do today was lounge around the house, gorge himself on those expensive eclairs that Regulus kept buying him despite lecturing him on their nutritional value, and maybe drag his husband into the muggle world to corrupt him to the ways of the non-magic folk. Was it really too much to ask for some peace and quiet? Just a day to themselves that they could use for some fun and entertainment?

Like working on starting their family. It was a very lengthy and involved process and they needed to make sure it worked by doing things properly and thoroughly. (And that was the reasoning Harry would give if he was ever asked about it. It wasn’t as if he was _lying_.)

But back to their disaster of a lunch. This particular group of people all together in one place was a train wreck in the making and Harry had no bloody clue what Charlus was thinking by doing something like this. He would have said the git was suffering from some sort of mental problem if it weren’t for the equally smug look on Dorea’s face as she calmly sipped her tea and subtly fussed over Marcus as he ate some grapes. (Harry really wasn’t sure who he wanted Marcus to take after more at this point, they were both utterly mad.)

A small squeeze on his hand brought him back to the present and he looked to the side to see Regulus studying him, his lips twitching at the corners at Harry’s expression and a glint of amusement in his silver eyes. He felt his shoulders lose a bit of their tension at his husband’s state of calm. If Regulus could keep his cool and sit through this, then so could he.

“Alright then, I suppose we should get started with our little Potter family reunion!”

_If there weren’t a toddler here I’d hex you impotent. ‘Family reunion’, my arse._

Harry looked around the table again, a small part of his mind hoping that he was dreaming or something and that soon enough he’d blink himself awake and find himself somewhere much better off. Like in bed. At home. With Regulus. Naked. Definitely naked.

… Did he really have to be here and deal with this nonsense?

You couldn’t find a more volatile group of people if you tried, and Harry had to physically brace himself before he did something like groan and fall face-first onto the table from the mental pain of having to deal with this … reunion.

James Potter, Lily Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Dorea Potter, Charlus Potter, Marcus Potter, Regulus Black, Hadrian Black, all sat together at a quaint magical café enjoying the autumn weather.

_What a pile of dragon dung._

Harry knew he shouldn’t have trusted the words of Charlus Potter.

* * *

“God, I could do with a Mars Bar right about now,” Harry moaned.

He wasn’t kidding, he needed some good old-fashioned high-sugar chocolate right now. While any chocolate would really do, a Mars Bar sounded so good right now. With the chocolate and the caramel and the nougat … the more he thought about them, the more he _needed_ one.

Regulus turned to him with a frown. “You know, it’s really not healthy for you to keep eating so much chocolate. You've had at least three chocolate cakes to yourself from the elves just this week, and that doesn’t even include whatever baking you’ve been doing yourself or the random trips to muggle shops just for chocolate.”

Harry blinked incredulously. It wasn’t _that_ bad, surely? I mean, yeah he did kind of go for a walk around the muggle town half an hour away nearly every day because they had a very nice collection of sweets that would have made Dudley scream like the pig he was, and perhaps he did have the elves supplying him with some chocolate-filled dessert even when it wasn’t the appropriate time of day for that particular course, and his baking cookies and brownies _did_ tend to happen more days than not …

_Fucking hell, I’ve turned into a chocoholic._

Not that he’d be admitting to that any time soon.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, I just happen to enjoy some chocolate every now and then,” he said calmly with a blank look on his face.

Grey eyes did not look impressed. “I’m pretty sure your version of ‘every now and then’ is going to make you fat.”

“How rude,” Harry sniffed. “Are you only interested in my looks or something? Are you going to divorce me if I gain weight? What a cruel marriage we have to be based solely on such shallow aspects of ourselves!”

Harry knew full well he was laying it on thick as he strolled ahead of his husband with his nose in the air, but there was no way he could deny that he loved messing with Regulus Black. Riling him up was premium entertainment, so much so that he wondered how he’d gone close to two decades without that particular enjoyment in his life.

Besides, it wasn’t as if Regulus wasn’t used to it by now. He could deal with it.

“You should be more than aware by now, _Husband_ , that I’m a Black and I’m rather possessive of what I consider to be mine. An inconsequential fact such as weight gain would do nothing to change _that_ , I can assure you.”

The time traveller once more cursed his hormone-riddled body at the tone of his husband’s voice, hating (sort of) his body’s reaction to the words when they were in public. But Regulus was being a bit of a bastard by murmuring softly in his ear from behind, standing close enough that he could feel the body heat of the taller man.

There was a beat of silence before the suggestive tone cut off and was replaced by dry bemusement. “But I am being completely serious about all the chocolate, that can’t be good for your health.”

Harry was far from stupid and logically knew that so much sugar crammed full of calories was in no way good for him, but admitting that would be admitting he was _wrong_ , and that would mean losing to Regulus, which in conclusion meant _no_.

His stupidly-attractive husband would _not_ win this discussion, thank you very much, Harry had his pride and _yes_ it was that important. He wasn’t _stupid_.

(He’d become rather good at ignoring his inner voice over the years. _Bravo, Harry. Cheers for me_.)

“I think I’d know if my health was suffering, Regulus. Considering, you know, it’s my own body?”

“Sarcasm is unbecoming, Harry."

He side-eyed Regulus weirdly. Was the man insane? “What the bloody hell are you talking about? Sarcasm isn’t unbecoming, it’s a way of life! Living without sarcasm would be horrible. Just think: days of bland and serious conversation, not being able to subtly take the piss out of people without them realising –”

“I’m fairly certain that some individuals would be appreciative of that fact.”

“– not to mention having to actually be mature and deal with life in an appropriate manner. I mean, how boring would that be?”

Regulus snorted. “I’m also certain the majority of people in our society would disagree with your opinion on maturity.” The taller man shook his head in a bemused manner and turned to him with twitching lips. “Can you honestly give me an example of when immaturity was the best course of action?”

Harry stared into grey eyes, dumbfounded. “Regulus,” he said slowly, “I’m your husband.”

“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“See!” Harry exclaimed while pointing his finger at the man, eyes wide with triumph and a massive grin on his face. “Sarcasm! You’d be so screwed without it, don’t even argue with me. You wouldn’t be able to bitch about Alphard, snipe about Sirius and the Marauders, even ‘reminisce’ about your mother and what you’d do if you could traumatise her with our marriage.”

He crossed his arms not even caring he probably had a truly smug expression. “In conclusion, you’re a sarcastic shit who probably wouldn’t last a day if he couldn’t be.”

Regulus blinked as if startled before wrinkling his nose and turning away, muttering under his breath as Harry laughed at him. He was right, and he’d won, and _suck on that, Regulus!_

(And he really shouldn’t say those words, even in his own head. Merlin, he had issues.)

After a minute or two of Harry circling his husband trying to get him to reveal what was undoubtedly a pissed off expression, Regulus straightened up with a glower that honestly just made him snicker even more and earned a deeper glare that made more than a few of Diagon Alley’s patrons flee in terror – which was hilarious, and Harry was so glad that he had access to a Pensieve; those memories were going to be _brilliant_ – and he looked at Harry in silence as if daring him to say anything.

Honestly, it was as if Regulus didn’t realise his personality. They were married, for crying out loud.

Harry opened his mouth before Regulus cut him off. “Ignoring this completely irrelevant tangent concerning my apparent sarcasm,” he started before pausing to scowl at Harry’s Cheshire cat impression, “let’s get back to our previous discussion. You never answered my question about the usefulness of immaturity.”

 _Oh, yeah. What did he ask again?_ The smaller man mentally went over their conversation before his eyes brightened and he clicked his fingers. “Oh yeah, that!”

He turned to Regulus. “Like I said, I’m your husband. In order to become your husband, circumstances had to be more than a little exceptional. Let's be honest, the only ways we could have been together without said circumstances being turned on their head would have been some pretty big age gap – not that I would have cared that much, truth be told – or some dodgy bringing dead bodies back to life sort of thing. Not too sure the resulting relationship would even be legal, but then again I’m always getting shocked about our world. Who knows? Maybe it _is_ legal to sha –”

A hand slapped roughly across his mouth, halting his words. Regulus had a pinched expression and looked faintly disgusted.

“Please don’t finish that sentence.”

He snorted into the hand and started cackling, though the sound was muffled by the hand still keeping him quiet. Maybe that had something to do with them being in public and his husband not wanting people to hear their discussion? Harry had said some truly vile things in the comfort of their own home without Regulus reprimanding him – from what he could remember – so it couldn’t be the actual topic, could it? Or maybe his husband found necrophilia to be genuinely vomit-inducing? To be fair it was, but considering some of the things in the Black library it wasn’t _that_ bad.

… Or maybe it was and Harry’s perceptions of different levels of gross were a little off, who knew?

Harry cleared his throat and moved Regulus’ hand, fighting off the urge to laugh in the other man’s face. “As I was saying, we were married through extenuating circumstances. Circumstances that arose from me ignoring my maturity and doing what I knew was a bad idea, but doing it anyway because I was curious.

“Mature would have been retreating to the library and trying to find out what the box was, or calling Kreacher to see if he any clue about it. Instead I didn’t, after which I ended up in front of you and the rest is history as they say.

“So, the truth is that our marriage was a direct result of immaturity, hence it was good. Unless you think I should have avoided immaturity even then?”

Regulus stepped closer until they were barely an inch apart, grey eyes glinting as they bore into his own. “I suppose immaturity in and of itself isn’t an unnecessary facet of humans, though its usefulness is entirely subjective depending on the individual situation.”

The taller man bent down until they were nose to nose and smirked. “Suffice it to say that I’m _very_ pleased with your instance of immature behaviour.”

Before Harry could reply – not that he was having much luck on that front anyway given his memory seemed to be grabbing onto any publicly-inappropriate interaction of his with Regulus Black and making his brain leak out his ears – a certain voice that Harry had come to know and hate emanated from a spot a few feet away.

“Aw, aren’t the two of you so sweet!”

Harry swore and spun around to glower. “Son of a whore, why are you here?!”

“That’s rude. My mother might’ve been a bitch, but she was no whore. Though that probably had more to do with nobody wanting to shag the woman than any choice of hers,” Charlus mused as he stroked his chin thoughtfully.

_What a fucking moron. I dread to think of what I would’ve ended up like if he’d actually raised me._

The older man visibly brightened, though there was a strange glint in his blue eyes and Harry immediately felt wary. _What's he up to now?_

“I was wondering if you two wanted to come and have lunch with us? Dorea and I are having a Potter thing at the new place down Horizont, and Regulus, let’s remember now you’re my son-in-law and my wife’s cousin or godson or whatever the hell you want to label it as, so clearly you’re a member of the family too, don’t be shy!”

 _I wouldn’t call it shy_ , thought Harry. The look his husband was directing as his adoptive father was clearly questioning the man’s intelligence just as effectively as a few scathing words would have. It was quite impressive that visual cues could rival verbal communication in conveying an opinion so well, but then again Regulus was one of those annoying genius types, he did seem to be rather adept at whatever he put his mind to.

_Over-achieving bastard._

“You want us to have lunch with you. Why? We saw you like three days ago,” Harry said with a frown.

Charlus pouted – and surely he was too old for that – before saying, “But Harry, Marcus is missing his big brother! He wants to play with you whenever he can; surely you aren’t going to deprive a toddler of some family time?”

As much as it pained him to admit – truly pained him in the depths of his soul – Charlus made a strong case and Harry felt a little guilty. Marcus was adorable and seemed to love Harry, or at least the colourful things he conjured for his entertainment, anyway. The time traveller could admit the boy was adorable, with the messy Potter hair and Dorea’s eyes, though he’d prefer it if the woman would stop smirking and teasing him and Regulus about her son looking as if he could be theirs. She was right, but the woman was mortifying to be around sometimes. (Harry was just glad he wasn’t often stuck with her and Melania together; _that_ situation was a living nightmare, no doubt about it.)

He internally damned Charlus to the pits of hell – he wasn’t going to give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing him lose his temper – and sighed before looking at Regulus whose lips twitched at the look on Harry’s face. _Git_. The taller man nodded slightly and Harry turned back to the crazy man next to them.

“Fine, we’ll come. Where is this place anyway?”

Charlus grinned with a look of smug success in his eyes and Harry could practically hear warning sirens go off around him as he got a sinking feeling in his stomach. A strong arm wrapped around his shoulder and more or less dragged him down Diagon Alley while its owner kept up with a stream of nonsense about his life so far, never pausing enough for Harry to get a word in and practically forcing Regulus to jog to keep up with them.

Eventually the party of three found their way to a small outdoor café decorated with curling ivy everywhere, but before Harry could get a good look around Dorea appeared out of nowhere and smirked at them. _Jesus Christ, what have they done?_

“Oh good, you’re here." The woman turned over her shoulder and called out, “Come along now, I’m not waiting all day!”

Several sets of footsteps interrupted Harry’s building panic, but when the people rounded the corner into his sight, all Harry could do was freeze and start to have an inner meltdown. It was bad enough living in the same time period as these people who’d once been the most important people to Harry ever, but being in the very same room as them was bloody horrendous. His inner Slytherin was all but screaming to flee and avoid all contact until he had an appropriate strategy planned for dealing with them. The Gryffindor part was quite in favour of just going with it and winging things the best he could.

It was a shame that neither part of him had a choice in the face of Dorea Potter’s determination.

The woman strode forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning in to briefly press her lips to his cheek before pulling back with what he damn well knew was an evil grin on her face. (Nobody would ever convince him otherwise, and the woman was as mad as a Hatter.)

“Hello Harry, nice of you to join us. You too, Regulus.”

_Why do I keep getting involved with crazy people?_

* * *

So yes, Harry was quite fervently wishing to be anywhere other than where they were, mostly because he couldn’t figure out what the hell was happening with the remaining Marauders and co. as they sat looking painfully awkward around the table.

Remus’ face was admittedly hilarious though, looking so confused and baffled by the entire situation that Harry was having to use every ounce of Occlumency he had not to burst out laughing. The man kept looking between Harry and Regulus and Sirius and James, and god knows what was running through his mind.

The other Black brother looked antsy, fidgeting in his seat as he kept stealing subtle glances – or what he thought of as subtle – at Regulus, practically drinking in the sight of his younger brother casually lounging in his chair and absentmindedly sipping wine. Regulus would have looked so mature to Harry if it weren’t the niggling feeling that he was only doing it to piss Sirius off. Then again, the last time they met Sirius had publicly accused him of being a Death Eater and got proven wrong. Granted Regulus _had_ been a Death Eater, but that was just nit-picking as far as Harry was concerned.

The other Potter kept looking at Harry every few seconds, eyes focused as he studied Harry’s eyes behind his glasses. If it weren’t for the adoption ritual and a subsequent blood test conducted afterwards, Harry would be shitting himself right about now. James had clearly noticed that Harry’s eyes were eerily similar to those of his wife, though thankfully he seemed to have written it off as a strange coincidence and was content to keep gazing at what he thought of as a cousin he’d never known before.

It was the other woman at the table that made Harry’s breath catch. No matter how many times he’d seen pictures of her or remembered that horrible memory, he’d always thought that Lily Potter nee Evans was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. People might think him to be bloody weird thinking that but it wasn’t a physical thing. Despite any mistakes she’d made as a teenager, the woman clearly loved her husband and had been an incredible mother. She'd fought for him with her life, and even on Death’s door she’d protected Harry with everything she had. The woman before him would always hold a special place in his heart.

(Though why people thought he wanted to marry a complete clone of his mother was bewildering to think about. He wasn’t _that_ fucked up, thank you very much, and he’d honestly been grateful that Ginny’s hair lightened as she got older and wasn’t like Lily’s dark auburn. He'd have gone running for the hills if she looked like his mum. _Ick_.)

At the moment Lily looked to be in wonder as she studied the resemblance of the Blacks and the Potters, though Marcus seemed to be her focus as the perfect blend of the family features. That or she was just enamoured with the cute toddler, it was a definite possibility.

Marcus was currently babbling away to his mother as he munched on his fruit, though he soon decided that was at an end and turned to Harry with a grin and waved his hand around.

“’Arry! Up!”

Admittedly it sounded a little like Hagrid’s accent but it was too cute to ignore. Harry stood up and walked around the table, very much aware of four curious sets of eyes on him as he bent down to pick up his adopted brother. He settled Marcus on his hip and smiled as the boy reached up to grab his face with sticky hands and started talking about everything he could think of. Well, a two-year-old’s version of talking, anyway.

“Oh my god, you two are so cute!”

The loud squeal made him jump and he spun around while reaching for his wand, only for him to see Lily looking mortified with a hand clapped over her mouth and her face the colour of her hair. The three men that’d come with her looked to be varying degrees of amused, with Remus sporting a small grin at her enthusiasm and Sirius snorting into his hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. They seemed to be trying to hide their amusement, but James on the other hand seemed to have no problem telling his wife what he truly thought.

“Merlin, Lils! I didn’t realise you were so bloody girly, I’d have given you that stuffed bear if I'd known.”

The teasing smirk reminded Harry of the Snape Pensieve incident, though surprisingly enough it seemed to lack the arrogant set and his eyes were soft rather than malicious. Even if this was Lily he was still vastly different to before and Harry couldn’t quite believe it; this man had been a bully throughout his teens, and even if Harry loved his original father and respected him for trying to protect him and his mother, James had still been an arsehole. It was ... strange, seeing him more adult than before. Well, bloody weird if he was going to be honest, but that did seem to be par for the course for his life now.

“Well of course they’re cute, they’re my sons!”

Charlus’ exclamation distracted Lily from cursing her husband in one way or another – and Harry was a _little_ sad he didn’t get to witness that – and everyone turned to look at his demented grin as he began praising his children for being amazing because they were his.

“I do believe the truly amazing thing about your sons is that they clearly aren’t as insane as you,” Regulus drawled with a flat look at the elder Potter. Harry snorted and grinned at his husband, returning to his seat with a lap full of happy toddler.

“My dearest son-in-law,” Charlus began with a sly smirk, “is something wrong? It can’t be marital problems already, can it? I mean, the two of you do spend a lot of time locked up in your home sha- OW!”

The man cut off with a yelp and leaned down under the table, hissing in pain as he did so and glaring at Harry. _Point one to me_. Besides, it was only a little kick. Charlus was just a wimp.

“Da?”

Harry smiled down at Marcus before turning to his adoptive father with a bland look on his face. “You should be more careful, _Father_. These tables are rather solid and you wouldn’t want to hurt yourself, would you? Let's be honest, magic is a wondrous thing, but you really do have to be more careful at your age, you wouldn’t want to do permanent damage.”

“You little shi-”

“Hey, Marcus!” Harry said brightly. “Why don’t you tell your dad about the bird you saw earlier?”

“Dad! Bird!”

Soon enough Charlus had his toddler son once more who was rambling about the bird he saw when they got to the restaurant and Harry was grinning evilly at the older man, quite entertained by the youngest Potter’s ability to fuck with his father’s piss-taking. _What a truly beautiful child._

The sound of a throat clearing caught his attention and Harry turned to see Lily gazing at him a little nervously though with a determined set to her jaw. He’d have to give her credit considering Dorea’s oppressive presence, the former Black seemingly enjoying terrifying everyone just by sitting in her chair silently. Sirius especially was more than a little wary of his aunt, though considering his status as estranged from the House of Black it was no wonder sitting there with two of his relatives was fucking with him.

“So, Hadrian –”

“Please, call me Harry,” he cut in with a smile.

Lily blinked, startled. “Oh, er, Harry then. So what is it you do, Harry?”

“Do?” Harry tilted his head slightly.

“I mean as a profession.”

Regulus snorted and he glared at the man, completely missing the shocked look on the Marauders’ faces at how casual his husband was acting. Which he would have scoffed at anyway, let’s be honest. A snort was hardly the most surprising sound the man had ever admitted, but the details of their sex life were completely personal and would remain so. Even if making everyone blush up a storm would be hilarious.

_Then again …_

Harry smirked at Regulus before turning back to the table at large. “Well, that depends. Does being Regulus’ arm-candy and trophy husband count?”

He really couldn’t have timed it better, and he started cackling as Sirius snorted out juice at the same time Remus choked on his, the unsubtle couple covering themselves in sugary liquid in perfect tandem with one another. _They're so in sync, it’s incredible! God, I’m going to need the Pensieve later._

Lily had turned the colour of her hair once more, but James had decided to embrace the Potter craziness for once and started roaring with laughter, his red face buried in the table as he slammed his fist down in random bursts. The man was hiccoughing with the effort and had his arms wrapped around his middle, not that it seemed to be doing a lot of good.

The eldest Potter managed to resist just until Regulus let out a long-suffering sigh and looked upwards to the sky. Charlus then broke down laughing, helped along by Marcus’ giggling and Dorea’s amused smirk. It seemed the mad woman quite appreciated his humour despite its inappropriate tone. _Oh well, I’m pretty sure that old Lord Black knows what I’m like by now. Considering he hasn’t offed me yet I’m guessing he doesn’t completely disapprove. Maybe._

“Oh - oh my god! That was brilliant! Your faces, they – they were perfect!”

Harry had tears in his eyes and still couldn’t string a proper sentence together, but he was quite happy with the result of his fun. It wasn’t often he got to fuck with people that wouldn’t take serious offence to him. Well, they might, but it wasn’t like he really gave a crap anyway, not to mention he was now part of a family that had a well-documented reputation of casually murdering people they had problems with.

… It sounded a lot worse when he thought about it like that. They weren’t _that_ bad. Right?

“You couldn’t just play nice for once, could you?”

The dry tone caught his attention and he looked to the side, grinning at his husband’s raised brow and twitching lips. Apparently Regulus wasn’t too pissed off at his actions, which was a good thing, because otherwise the bastard might do something stupid like withhold sex. Which would _not_ go down well with Harry, no it wouldn’t. And no, he wasn’t going off on a tangent, it was called a contingency plan, he was just preparing for anything.

(This might not be what she thought, but Harry was sure Hermione’d be proud of him for planning ahead. Probably.)

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Harry pushed back his chair and beamed at his husband. “Now if you’ll excuse –”

As he stood up Harry felt a wave of vertigo crash into him and his knees buckled, his body tipping backwards on unsteady feet. As it was, the smaller man was incredibly thankful to his husband for stopping him from splattering himself on the stone floor; he had enough scars as if was.

“Harry!”

He let himself get guided back to his chair and focused on trying to blink his way back to clarity. He was vaguely aware of everyone else trying to get close as they asked him how he was but Harry only had eyes for Regulus. Before he could say anything a contemplative voice drew his attention.

“Hmm … Isn’t that interesting?”

Dorea had a knowing glint in her eyes which set Harry on edge immediately, though the fact that she glanced around at the others confused the hell out of him. What did they have to do with him nearly faceplanting? 

“It’s a good thing we got a private area.”

Everyone else was also looking at the woman as if she was off her rocker – _and hey, look at that, rival Houses and estranged siblings all on one side for once, it’s a miracle!_ Harry was almost tearing up – before she shot them all a smug look and waved her wand over the six younger magicals in a complicated twist.

Harry jolted and looked down, suddenly feeling rather faint considering he knew _exactly_ what that was. It wasn’t something he’d ever seen in person before, but Andromeda had been rather thorough in her instruction of healing spells and the results they produced. He now knew all manner of ways to heal physical wounds, figure out internal problems, and how diagnostic spells conveyed their results and how to interpret them.

Which was why he knew that green glow over his lower stomach meant that he was pregnant.

_Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fu –_

“Well, I didn’t expect _that_.”

The green-eyed mad lifted his head to snipe at Regulus before his eyes widened in shock at the scene before him. Harry’s stomach might be glowing the soft hue that proclaimed a child for all to see – _green means go! Green means good! Green means oh holy shit I’m going to be responsible for a human being when I can’t even control my own diet, though maybe this puts a new spin on all the chocolate and thank_ fuck _I wasn’t craving something gros_ s – but the shock of his pregnancy wasn’t drawing all the focus here.

The other ones were getting their fair share.

Two other green glows were settling over stomachs a few feet away from him, and Sirius and Lily were both staring wide-eyed at their own abdomens with pale faces as the reality seemed to slowly set in for them.

Strangely enough, seeing the other two pregnant people start to panic was rather soothing for Harry, though that could be because his husband was staring at Harry with something akin to pride alongside his obvious love that he could practically feel the support. Harry beamed back at him, one of his hands unconsciously coming up to touch his flat stomach. _We'll be fine._

Several loud thumps interrupted him from staring at Regulus – and really, what was wrong with him ogling his gorgeous husband? They were married, he had a ring on his hand that said he could eye him up as much as he wanted as far as he was concerned – and he spun around only to stop and look at the floor bewilderingly.

James, Sirius and Remus were all passed out on the floor, apparently having taken the news of their impending fatherhood like a literal shock to the system. He knew they were technically all teenagers right now, but this was ridiculous.

“Wimps.”

His head shot up and he met Lily’s eyes, both of them surprised they spoke in unison. After a few seconds both of them snorted and they started laughing.

_Yeah, we’ll be more than fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> SORRY!!! I know I said once a week or fortnight, but work has been killing me so bad I haven't even realised what the day is, let alone what I haven't written for yet.
> 
> Hopefully the revelations at the end make up for the chapter being late? And it being longer than usual? Maybe? (Please don't hate me!)
> 
> Anyway, yes it's only Harry that's pregnant. I know I joked about it being both but I figured that they could catch a break for once. For now ;)
> 
> I'll see you guys next time, and thanks for all your support.
> 
> Happy reading!


	4. That's one way, I suppose ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own 'Harry Potter'

Harry slowly made his way through the room and stopped behind Regulus sat on the sofa, leaning forward to nuzzle into the dark curls as he wrapped his arms around the other man’s shoulders.

“Hello, the world’s most wonderful husband.”

“Harry?”

“Yes, my lovely other half?”

“You’re not having any more chocolate.”

He immediately pulled back with a scowl and crossed his arms, staring daggers at the back of Regulus’ head. “Why the fuck not?”

The taller man turned around and met his eyes, an elegant brow raising in silent yet derisive question. _Bastard_.

“I’m fairly certain we’ve had this discussion already, multiple times in fact. Chocolate is extraordinarily unhealthy for the human body, and that’s without accounting for the pregnancy. You need nutritional food for sustenance, you _and_ the baby. Both of you require a controlled and specific diet so as to ensure that you’re both in excellent health. Chocolate every now and then isn’t an issue, but the amount you’ve wanted to consume in the past few months is frankly more than I’ve eaten in the past few years,” Regulus finished dryly.

Harry pouted – and no, he wasn’t being childish, he had every right to complain at his unfair treatment – and glared at his husband. “That’s all well and good for you to say, but you’re not the one whose very body is screaming at them for chocolate all the time, and you know damn well what happens to pregnant people if they ignore their cravings, you stupid well-read git.”

Regulus just rolled his eyes at Harry who could almost feel his eye twitch with physical irritation. Pregnancy sucked; morning sickness – and who was the arsehole that had the _gall_ to insinuate that shit only happened in the morning – dizziness, aching muscles, and above all the incessant and demanding screams for chocolate from his interfering body. Or the baby. (This kid was going to have one hell of a sweet-tooth, he knew it.)

Pregnancy might be oh-so-amazing about the miracle of life or some such tripe that naïve people spouted, but the physicality of it was getting more awful as the days went by, hence why having his husband constantly whinging about his cravings was starting to get on his last nerve. Harry wasn’t stupid by any stretch of the imagination and knew what he wanted wasn’t healthy, but unfortunately Regulus wasn’t in a position to understand just how much his body’s hormones were screwing him over. He couldn’t wait for Regulus to get pregnant himself, then he could sit back and laugh and point and think, _‘take that, wanker!’_

… So maybe carrying a child was making him more of a bastard than before, but he was hormonal, sue him.

(Speaking of hormonal, if there was a good thing to make up for his problems it was the influx of certain hormones that left him feeling _very_ receptive to his husband’s affections. As in, the two of them made repeated use of any comfortable surface in their home to shag each other’s brains out because Harry was so damn horny all the time. Literally, _all the time_. It was a good thing he was already pregnant considering their activities of the past few months.)

“So what if I like the taste of chocolate? I can’t help that, you know. It doesn’t help that Melania bought us about a year’s worth of sweets from Honeydukes as a wedding gift. There's still so much left and it looks so good …” Harry trailed off, already half day-dreaming about the piles upon piles of confectionary goodness that Melania Black had gifted them with for their wedding alongside her official gift. The woman might be mad but she was also kind of a godsend. Well, she was until Regulus started hiding their chocolate and even got Melania to agree with him concerning Harry’s chocolate intake.

His new family was full of arseholes.

He came back to reality to see a flat look on his husband’s face and pouted. “Regulus!” he whined, “why are you so mean to me? I’m carrying your child, you know. The least you could do is let me taste some chocolate.”

Regulus opened his mouth before he paused, a contemplative expression appearing on the aristocratic face that Harry very much enjoyed ogling every chance he got. There was a slight crease between his husband’s brows, but what made Harry a little wary was the intrigued glint in the grey eyes that seemed to be gaining life as the seconds went by. He might love the other man, but that didn’t mean that the time traveller was all that enthusiastic of his penchant for doing things to cause havoc. Which, yeah, might be a little hypocritical of him to say – Harry wasn’t _that_ unaware of his own personality, thank you very much – but he was in too foul a mood to give a crap right now.

“I do believe there may be a solution to this issue.”

Harry cocked his head to the side in question, but before he could question what the fuck Regulus was going on about, a shiny object left his husband’s hand and came flying in his direction. Years' worth of playing Seeker had honed his reflexes and hand-eye coordination to astounding levels, and Harry instinctively grabbed whatever it was out the air, frowning at the slight crinkling sound as his fingers closed around it.

He lifted his hand and opened it, eyes widening in delight at the bar of chocolatey goodness his oh-so-brilliant husband had apparently decided to gift him with, completely forgetting the other man’s vague statement a moment ago.

“Regulus, I knew you loved me!” He tore open the packet and bit in to the treat, moaning at the taste on his tongue. “I love you so much.”

“Why are you acting even happier now than when we got married?” The muttered response went unanswered as Harry drifted into sugary bliss, happily unaware of his husband’s petulant mood. (Not that he would have cared too much if he was concentrating, anyway. Um, hello? It was _chocolate_ , and chocolate was the food of the gods, and he and the baby were in complete agreement that this small bar of sweet-tasting cocoa was the food of dreams right now. Regulus could go sulk.)

Harry absentmindedly licked a bit of melted chocolate off his fingers and blinked as his hormone-infested body provided another use for the confection that Regulus would probably very much enjoy.

He turned to the other man and grinned salaciously. “Have you ever heard of body paint?”

Regulus blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Harry walked over to the sofa and climbed on, shuffling over on his knees until he was straddled across his husband’s lap and lifted his arms to wrap around his neck. He started absentmindedly playing with Regulus’ hair and leaned forward to kiss his neck, grin stretching wider at the almost-silent hitch of breath he elicited.

“Well …”

As he explained more and more about the different, _personal_ uses of chocolate between couples, he could feel the man underneath him start to become quite interested in Harry’s explanation of just how sweets could be used to spice up their love life.

A few minutes later and he was being pressed down into the sofa with Regulus attached to his lips.

_I knew he’d come around to chocolate eventually._

* * *

Regulus was a smart man and he wasn’t being arrogant by admitting it.

He'd been top of his year every year since he began Hogwarts, attained a Prefect badge in his fifth year, ended up with ten O’s on his OWL exams – there was no way in hell a scion of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black could have taken Divination or Muggle Studies and actually retained any respect; they were better than _that_ – became Quidditch captain in his sixth year and graduated with six O’s on his NEWTs. He was academically brilliant, magically powerful, and his years growing up as a Black then entering Slytherin House refined his political acuity to the point that he’d managed to dance around and avoid Death Eater recruitment at school for over two years without alienating a single one of his peers.

The point was, Regulus Black was an astoundingly-capable wizard that was well-equipped to deal with all manner of trials and tribulations life might deem to throw his way. He'd always known he was intelligent enough to handle life’s adventures and had never been given a reason to suspect otherwise.

Until he got married to Harry Potter and got him pregnant, anyway.

Regulus groaned and leaned back in his chair, lifting a hand to rub harshly over his face in tiredness despite the smug grin on his face. Harry had been a nightmare recently with his addiction to chocolate – and yes, it was an addiction no matter how nicely his passive-aggressive husband liked to dress it up; nobody craved something that much without having some form of dependence on it – not that he was stupid enough to even _think_ such thoughts about his husband while in his vicinity; Harry was like a bloodhound with how he tracked people bitching at him.

It wasn’t healthy, nor was it even remotely appetising seeing his husband smear his favourite sugar-filled snack over everything because his hormones were horrendously erratic. (Seriously, how on _earth_ could the other man even stomach chocolate-covered rice with pickles? Pregnancy hormones were nothing to scoff at.)

Harry couldn’t keep eating so much chocolate. This was a fact and had been for the past several months, so much so that Regulus had been rather single-minded in his attempts to find a solution to what would inevitably be the declining health of his husband and unborn child if Harry continued consuming so much sugar on a daily basis.

Thankfully, his marriage to Harry was unlike the dreadfully-manufactured unions of the majority of their societal peers – he couldn’t fathom being bound to somebody he hated – which meant he actually paid attention to whatever came out his husband’s mouth and processed the words he heard. Even if Harry had thoroughly distracted him with some novel uses for chocolate – uses which he was very keen to continue again in the future many more times; Harry was corrupting his mind more and more every day – he still hadn’t forgotten what Harry had said to him beforehand.

He craved the taste of chocolate. The _taste_.

‘ _What if something could be made to taste like chocolate?’_ That was the errant thought which spawned his little research project and led to him experimenting with all manner of foods. Kreacher seemed very enthusiastic to help out in this regard, most notably because Regulus himself was having a child that was going to bear the Black name. (Of course Sirius was having a child also, but considering the annoying shit had actually had the gall to elope with Lupin and take his name, only Regulus’ children would be carrying on the family line. _Bastard brother._ )

This little project had once more reaffirmed his intelligence and genius – it was hardly arrogance if it were true, no matter how much Uncle Alphard mocked him – and Regulus took a few seconds to bask in his success. He rubbed his eyes once more as if to physically force awareness into his sight before looking back down at his desk and the innocuous-looking item sat on his notes, the small size at complete odds with the weeks and weeks of research he’d conducted.

He had a bar of chocolate.

Or at least, it _looked_ like chocolate. It also smelt and tasted like chocolate, but in reality the faux confection was the result of nearly an hour’s worth of painstakingly-difficult transfiguration, carefully turning a plate of healthy and balanced food into Harry’s favourite snack, finished with several different charms to ensure that the human senses fully processed the food as chocolate rather than what it started out as. It was so realistic in fact, that if somebody were to consume the bar without being made aware of its origins, then they would automatically assume it was genuine chocolate.

It was genius, if he did say so himself.

(He resolutely ignored the little voice in the back of his mind, the voice sounding suspiciously like his husband, snorting and muttering sarcastic diatribe concerning Regulus’ ego and sense of pride. _Sarcastic shit_.)

Regulus stood up, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his back in a manner that would have caused his mother to start shrieking about propriety and image and some such tripe or other that he had never truly listened to. And would never have to again because the crazy bitch was dead, _thank fuck._ He paused for a second before shaking his head ruefully. _I've been spending too much time with Harry._

He bent down to pick up his newest creation – _I didn’t think I’d be using my Transfiguration books for_ this – and started to walk out his office, briefly looking over the pictures adorning the hallways of the upper floor. His family, Dorea and Charlus, even one of Ophiuchus for some bizarre reason – _only Harry_ – were plastered on the wall in random places. It was so far removed from the dark and dreary décor of Grimmauld Place or even the classic and pristine Black Manor, and once more he couldn’t quite believe how much his life had changed since finding an unconscious man collapsed in the family attic.

Turning into the master bedroom, Regulus paused for a moment to watch his husband, grey eyes roving over the relaxed form reclining on their bed. Harry was laying on his back with his eyes closed, one arm tucked underneath his head while the other was resting on his rounded stomach, gently caressing the small bump. He was humming slightly, a calming lullaby of sorts, and Regulus was struck with affection that warmed him all over. Harry might be a pain in the arse – which was putting it lightly – but the man was the person he was in love with and the man carrying his child; it was a wonderful picture.

Regulus gently cleared his throat and walked into the room as green eyes snapped open and flicked over to him, the humming cutting off as Harry sat up on his elbows.

“Regulus?"

Said man climbed onto the bed next to Harry and wordlessly handed over the ‘chocolate’, barely holding back a snort as verdant eyes lit up in glee and the man grabbed it and bit into it like a child, features softening in bliss as he moaned. _I really wish he wouldn’t make sounds like that_. The other man munched on his treat for a few seconds before opening his eyes and pinning Regulus with a questioning look.

“What changed your mind?”

Regulus studied the transfigured food before turning to Harry with a speculative gaze. “What does it taste like?”

The other man froze with the bar in front of his mouth before narrowing his eyes at him. “What the ever-loving _fuck_ did you just give me?”

“Does it taste like chocolate?” Regulus Black was not terrified of his short and pregnant husband, no he was not.

“Regulus Arcturus Black …”

_He must be taking lessons from Grandmother_. That warning tone that promised a world of pain was just like Melania Black and Regulus barely held back a wince. Combined with the furious glint in the green orbs Harry looked a moment away from hexing him, and Regulus hurried to explain before the stress could hurt Harry or the baby.

“It’s not anything bad, it’s just that we both know so much chocolate is nutritionally unhealthy for you at the moment, so I decided to see if I could transfigure a balanced meal into chocolate and charm it to taste and smell like chocolate. This way you can actually eat decent food while it tastes like the sugar you crave.”

Harry squinted his eyes at Regulus for another minute before fixing the item in his hand with a dubious expression. He held it up to his nose and sniffed it, then tentatively book a bite and chewed thoroughly before swallowing. His husband stared at the chocolate for a while longer before shrugging and stuffing it back in his mouth.

“Fuck it.”

_Crisis averted_. Regulus slowly untensed his shoulders, doing his damnedest not to show Harry he’d only been seconds away from fleeing. Hormones plus Harry’s normal temper were a horrifically-scary combination and nothing would ever convince him otherwise. Hopefully the other man hadn’t noticed, though.

“Regulus?”

“Hmm?”

Harry grinned at him. “I’m not that scary, am I?”

… _Observant git._

* * *

“I can’t believe we’ve only got just under four months left. It feels like yesterday Mrs Potter cast that spell.”

Harry looked over at Lily who was musing to herself, chewing a biscuit as she absentmindedly rubbed her engorged stomach. Harry did have to admit it was fucking weird seeing his original mother pregnant in front of him, carrying a child that could very well be him from before. _Or would that be the future? Fuck knows._

It was pretty weird – which was a _serious_ understatement – that his fucking around in the past had actually completely removed any child of the Potters from being a part of the oh-so-helpful prophecy – _need to think about that later_ – seeing as Lily’s baby was due in May instead of July. Even if she was a little late that baby wasn’t going to be prophesised to do jack shit, let alone save the world from an insane psycho with a penchant for world domination. _Oh wait, he’s dead already. Point one to me._ (And no, he wasn’t insane talking to himself in his head, he was perfectly stable, thank you very much. He didn’t care how much Regulus sniped at him. Besides, he wasn’t the one who thought going to an Inferi-infested cave alone was a good idea. _Moron_.)

“Yep, four months then the joys of parenthood,” Harry snorted. Unlike the woman across from him, he was already intimately aware with things like changing nappies, feeding a baby during the night, and even enduring crying sessions for no apparent reason whatsoever other than the baby just feeling like it.

Teddy’s lungs had been _impressive_.

“Ugh, don’t remind me! I’m already stressing, and there isn’t even a little sprog around yet to make it worse!”

He and Lily looked up at once to see Sirius slouch into the room whining, looking more than a little put out at the thought of his upcoming days as a caretaker for a helpless infant. (Harry privately wished that baby luck. And for Remus to have the mental strength to prevail. That household was going to be a nightmare.)

Harry looked up and grinned. “Careful now, _Mr Lupin_ , or people might start getting the impression you’re not excited to be a dad.”

As he watched the aristocratic face light up with a blush with Lily snickering in the background, he took a moment to think through the fact that Sirius and Remus had actually went and eloped. _Sneaky bastards_. He'd always known they were together no matter what Hermione had said, and _take that Granger, I was right!_ Just because Remus had married Tonks didn’t mean he hadn’t been into his fellow Marauder. Honestly, it was if his bushy-haired friend had never heard of bisexuality or whatnot before.

He still couldn’t quite understand why the fuck the three of them were meeting up, but a good month after Dorea’s surprise ‘reveal’ in the restaurant – which he damn well knew the former Slytherin had planned somehow, he was sure of it – he’d received a tentative letter from the young Lady Potter asking for him to meet with her and Sirius, and after some negotiating with Regulus – who was an overprotective wanker that did _not_ want him meeting somewhere outside the wards of their home for an extended period of time – it'd been decided for Lily and Sirius to come to Oak Haven, and that was that.

They'd been meeting every couple of weeks for the past several months and Harry couldn’t deny he was ecstatic to finally get to know some of the people he’d considered family for years. Sirius of course he’d known a bit, but it was an entirely different situation to get to know him as an equal rather than a mentally off-kilter Sirius trying to be an authority figure to a depressed and neglected teen.

And then there was Lily. Remus hadn’t been joking when he was younger by saying the woman had a temper, and her already-short fuse seemed to be practically non-existent with the current pregnancy. He still remembered one memorable occasion when James accompanied her before fleeing in terror after he stupidly mentioned her weight and she flung a hardback at his head.

It was a lovely Pensieve memory.

Anyway, Lily wanted the pregnant people to bond so here they were. They were, in her own words, _“going to be a bloody family so everyone needs to get the fuck over their stupidity and act like adults instead of a bunch of flaming phoenixes on burning days.”_

She had such a way with words. (And he now knew where his foul mouth originated. _Go, Mum._ )

Harry would concede she had a point, though. His baby was Sirius’ nephew or niece, and thanks to the self-imposed shotgun wedding also Remus’. Their baby would be the niece or nephew of Harry and Regulus, and Harry and James were cousins so their children would be, too. (It sounded confusing but it still wasn’t anywhere near as messed up as the Black family tree, and that was without the incest making things worse.)

Sirius waved his arms around dramatically with a slightly crazed look in his eyes. “Of course I want to be a dad, but it’s bloody mental! There are so many things to do and that could go wrong, and bloody hell there’s going to be a mini-me!”

“God help us all,” Lily muttered.

“Hey!” Sirius sputtered indignantly.

Harry sighed. “I just hope my kid doesn’t end up looking like Marcus if it’s a boy. It'll be hell when they’re older if I can’t tell the difference between my own brother and son.”

Lily snorted and Sirius grinned, the two shits probably imagining a carbon copy of Marcus Potter stood next to him like a twin. If he did have a son that looked like him it would honestly be a pain as they grew considering there’d only be two years difference. _Please don’t make things any more complicated, whatever actual deity or power is listening, I’m_ begging _you._

Not one of them actually had a clue what the sex of their individual child was, all of them choosing to wait to the birth to be surprised. Harry honestly couldn’t care either way, he was more interested in who they’d take after more in terms of looks. He was hoping they were a good mix of he and Regulus both.

Before Harry could bitch back at Sirius’ annoying grin – something that was just begging to be punched if he was being honest – he felt a mental ping as the manor’s wards alerted him to somebody’s arrival. Both he and Regulus would have felt it, even with his husband currently at Black Manor plotting with Arcturus – despite what the sneaky bastards claimed – and Harry mentally felt through the protective magic to see who his home had let in. He smirked. _This should be good._

He cleared his throat and grinned a little maniacally. “Oh, Sirius?”

The other man looked at him warily. “What?”

“I do believe your time’s up. You've done well to evade her so far, but running can only get you so far.”

The Black frowned and gazed at him worriedly, but he didn’t even get a chance to question Harry before a usually-cheerful voice echoed through the room with an eerie calm that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Hello, my beloved grandson. How have you been? It’s been so long.”

Even Harry wanted to sink into the floor at the woman’s understated fury, and none of that was even directed at him. Her eyes were still wide open, she had a perfect smile stretched across her face, and her hands were clasped together in front of her as she stood in front of her oldest grandson looking like a perfect doll. If it weren’t for the glint of suppressed rage in the brown eyes the older woman would have appeared harmless.

He’d said it before and he’d say it again, Melania Black was a terrifying woman, and Sirius was now well and truly _fucked_.

“Nice knowing you, Sirius,” Harry murmured so Melania couldn’t hear him.

The other man glared at him before catching sight of his estranged grandmother’s furious eyes and wincing, physically cringing away from the petite woman as she slowly drifted towards him, smile widening even further and setting off every mental alarm Harry possessed.

“H-hey, Gran – I mean, Grandmother, how’ve you been?”

Harry leaned back in his chair and wished he had popcorn. _Wow, I’ve never seen him look more like a dog with its tail between its legs. Fascinating._

“Hmm? Oh, I suppose I’ve been fine. I mean, my daughter-in law did tragically die in an accident –”

Harry supposed him ending up back in time and getting the hag caught _was_ accidental.

“– but then my youngest grandson finally met someone and settled down. Granted it was rather quick, but it was a wonderful ceremony. I’d ask if you agree, but you didn’t attend, did you? A pity that –”

Wow, she was a pro at guilt-tripping people. _Even Lily’s wincing and Melania’s not even talking to her._

“– I suppose you’ve also been concerned with your growing family. I was going to enquire about the status of your relationship, but then I noticed the family tapestry at home. I was shocked; I mean, my own grandson getting married without informing me? Of course he wouldn’t!”

The woman paused to laugh airily, but the sound was anything but pleasant as Harry slowly put down his tea and biscuits, careful not to draw Melania’s attention in case he needed to flee. His peripheral vision showed Lily doing the same, and two sets of green eyes met with a mutual understanding passing between them.

This was Sirius’ fuck up, _he_ could deal with it.

“Sirius,” Melania sighed, sounding like she was gently chastising the man as opposed to brutally guilt-tripping him into allowing her access to her future great-grandchildren (which Harry was sure was her plan). “I understand things were strained with your parents, but exactly how did you come to the conclusion that Arcturus or I had any real issues with you? Neither of us conveyed that idea to you in any manner, not to mention you were never disinherited.”

“What?!” Sirius squawked in a very undignified manner.

“Honestly,” she carried on as if ignoring him, “you never even bothered coming to us when you ran away. We never gave any indication of hoping you wouldn’t. And not telling me about my own great-grandchildren! Sirius Orion Black, I would have hoped you had more family loyalty than that. It is of no consequence to me if your husband is a werewolf –”

Sirius choked and paled. Harry snorted into his hand discretely. _Brilliant_.

“– I merely wish to ensure the happiness of my great-grandchildren – all of them – and therefore you will be keeping me apprised of your child’s development, _won’t you?_ ”

“Yes, Grandmother,” came the faint reply.

“Of course you will, I’ve already missed the wedding of my oldest grandchild, I shan’t be absent for anything else that arises in the future,” Melania sniffed indignantly.

Harry was practically biting his tongue in half at the moment trying not to piss himself laughing. Sirius looked like he was going to pass out at the knowledge his grandmother knew he’d married a werewolf and was carrying their child, Lily was stunned at the other woman’s calm demeanour mixed with her subtle cunning, and Melania was almost pouting at how put-out she looked by Sirius’ recent behaviour.

_Okay, Harry … Calm down, don’t take the piss, don’t mention that Sirius is scared of a former Hufflepuff in her eighties, just breathe …_

Yeah, he knew he shouldn’t take joy in the misery of others but that was _hilarious_. It was fun seeing someone else the victim of Melania’s interfering.

Brown eyes turned his way and fixed him with an intense stare. “Harry dear, I do believe we need to discuss the particulars of the birth. After all, you _are_ carrying the next generation of Blacks.”

Harry froze and swore internally. _Fuck, I jinxed myself._

He sighed and pasted a smile on his face, resolutely ignoring Lily’s mischievous grin and Sirius slumping in relief. _Arseholes_.

This was going to be a _long_ day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> So ... I know it's been a while, but unfortunately my work schedule isn't going to let up any time soon. I work full-time so earning money and keeping myself healthy is my priority. (Which seems to have failed anyway seeing as I have Tonsillitis right now, but what can you do?) I refuse to go on hiatus and disappoint people by just disappearing, so I'm afraid I'll have to just stick with irregular updates of stories if and when I can. I'm sorry if this upsets people, but I literally don't have the time to write properly, and most of the time I also have no energy. Sorry guys!
> 
> I hope everyone liked the chapter and I'll see you next time!


	5. Since when does life go to plan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own 'Harry Potter'

_§What are you doing?§_

Harry didn’t even open his eyes, instead he blindly reached out in the direction of Ophiuchus’ head and started absentmindedly petting the smooth scales, feeling more than seeing the snake curl up next to him on the sofa with his head on Harry’s rounded stomach.

_§I’m trying to remember something.§_

He felt a tongue dart out across the back of his hand, Ophiuchus obviously interested as proven by his question. _§What something? Is it important? About your future hatchlings?§_

The time traveller felt his lips twitch and fought the urge to snort and or break down in hysterics. No matter how often his serpent friend said it, he couldn’t get over the utter hilarity of his unborn child being referred to as a ‘hatchling’. It didn’t even make sense as to why he found it so bloody funny, it was a perfectly natural thing for a snake to refer to any offspring as such, but for some reason equating his baby with a serpent was just too hilarious. (And _no_ , it wasn’t because he had a terrible sense of humour, Regulus could shut the fuck up, Harry wasn’t the one who thought it was funny to send Crup treats to Sirius for Christmas. _Idiot_.)

_§No, not about them. I'm trying to remember a certain conversation from a while ago.§_

And by ‘a while ago’, he meant a few years ago, which _really_ wasn’t helping in his journey to sift through the endless and horrendous meetings with Albus Dumbledore just to remember one little thing. Ordinarily he’d quite happily shove any and all meetings with the manipulative coot into a deep and dark mental box that he wouldn’t touch with a fifty-foot pole, but when he realised that he’d actually need access to those parts of his memories he had a slight temper tantrum and may or may not be the one responsible for throwing Walburga Black’s prized Italian Renaissance vase against the wall of Grimmauld Place and shattering it beyond repair. (Though it was entertaining witnessing Orion and Regulus’ combined joy at finding the evidence of his lapse in composure. They'd probably commend him if he admitted to it, but Harry was hilariously content to let them see it as an omen of good fortune at the bitch’s demise, so there.)

Occlumency had never been his forte, even if the repeated and brutal mind-rapes from the overgrown dungeon bat hadn’t been anywhere close to the delicate and subtle mind arts that served to protect a wizard’s mind rather than destroy their inner defences. (Andromeda had been rather informative – and terrifying – in explaining the truth of Occlumency to Harry and subsequently raging about how Snape had only worn away his mental shields and essentially tortured him. Which, yeah, he already kind of guessed that, but dear _lord_ was that woman’s temper something to fear, and he’d never been more grateful that he wasn’t the target of someone’s ire than when he saw Andromeda Tonks incinerate Walburga Black’s portrait and the wall behind it with some rather vicious Fiendfyre.

He wondered if the propensity for that particular fire spell was genetic for the Blacks. Regulus seemed to like it, crazy bastard that he was.)

Anyway, he _really_ needed to remember one particular conversation with the old goat, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. _I know_ when _it was, but I can’t remember the exact date …_ A mental flutter echoed through his mind and he wondered whether groaning or not was an appropriate response to that particular individual. Or laughing at what was no doubt going to be a hilarious expression when the git walked in.

“Well, if it isn’t my beloved nephew-in-law! How are you … doing?”

Harry opened his eyes once more and grinned at the put-out and wary expression in the man’s grey eyes as he stared at Ophiuchus with more than a hint of trepidation. He was stood in the doorway, lingering what he probably thought was a safe distance away – which it wasn’t, Harry’s pet was bloody fast when he wanted to be – with his fingers twitching in a way that meant he was resisting the urge to draw his wand. Harry inwardly snorted at his paranoia.

He’d known fucking with Alphard Black was going to be fun.

And it definitely was, because his husband’s uncle most definitely suffered from at least slight Ophidiophobia right now, and while some might think it mean to forcefully instil a phobia of snakes into a member of his married family, Harry preferred to think of it was karma for the bastard who delighted in making crude – and public – jokes of Harry and Regulus’ sex life, as well as spontaneously appearing at random moments whenever he felt like it for no other apparent reason than to make a general nuisance of himself.

Also, Ophiuchus enjoyed tormenting Alphard. Win-win as far as Harry was concerned.

“I’m very well, Alphard. How are you? Would you care to join me?”

He knew he was laying it on thick, but this was way too funny to let go.

“Yeah, sure.” The man carefully made his way around the side table and onto the sofa, all the while intently studying Ophiuchus as if waiting for him to make his move. Which of course he wouldn’t, the snake only terrified Alphard when Harry told him to, but the poor man was unaware of Harry’s status as a Parselmouth, so _oh well_.

Alphard cleared his throat, forcibly tearing his eyes away from the unblinking beady black eyes to stare at Harry’s reclining figure. “So, how goes the pregnancy? Have you and Reg decided on names yet?”

Harry snorted and stretched his arms over his shoulders, not caring at all that he had a guest and should care about appearances. This man was far from appropriate on the best of days, and considering what sort of things Alphard regularly sent him to ‘congratulate’ him on either his relationship or pregnancy, he wasn’t a man focused on propriety at all.

“The pregnancy’s great, if being constantly kicked in every direction is what people deem fun, not to mention the brat constantly bouncing up and down on my bladder, but sure, pregnancy is _delightful_.”

So maybe he was being sarcastic, but why people saw it as a time of joy and wonder was a mystery to Harry. It was _not_ a joy.

Harry casually stroked Ophiuchus’ head and hummed. “As for names, we’ve decided to wait and see after the birth. Besides the fact we don’t know the sex, there’s also the chance any name we choose might not feel right after we see the baby. I mean, it’s not like there’s a shortage of star names to choose from,” he said dryly.

Alphard laughed loudly, grinning at Harry as he did. “Can’t disagree with you there. The family’s been re-using the same names for years so there are tons that haven’t ever been used.”

The green-eyed man felt his lips twitch and rolled his eyes. _For a family of smart and powerful people, they are kind of lacking in creativity when it comes to names. ‘Oh look, how about we use ‘Sirius’? It's not as if it’s been used at least four times in the last century alone or anything? Or why don’t I name my son ‘Arcturus’ even though I already have a living brother and a great-uncle with the same name?’_

Yeah, how about no. He didn’t care how much he had to bribe Regulus with sex, their kid was going to have their own name, _no matter what_.

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out after the birth,” Harry mused. “Anyway, what have you been up to recently? Dorea keeps getting this creepy grin on her face when you come up in conversation and she keeps making sly remarks about your love life.”

Alphard shifted and winced slightly, and though it was fucking hilarious seeing the man so out of sorts, it was admittedly quite nice having someone else who could fully understand the mental pain that came with being a favourite target of the one and only Dorea Potter nee Black.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t throw Alphard under the bus to save his own skin though, Harry wasn’t _that_ nice.

“Ah, well … I’m a single man who enjoys the company of lovely women whenever I can. Though I’ll admit that Miss Ianthe Greengrass is certainly more intriguing than most women I see,” Alphard mused quietly, drifting off as he seemed to contemplate the only daughter of Lord Greengrass.

From what he remembered of the Greengrass family – and by remembered, he meant the information that Andromeda had practically forced into his head through repeated hexes ensuring he was motivated enough to make the information stick; why people thought women were weak, he had no clue – Ianthe Greengrass was the youngest child and only daughter of Lord Ajax Greengrass. Her older brothers were Castor, the father of Daphne and Astoria in Harry’s original life, and Jason, one of the fathers of the infamous Pansy Parkinson. From what he knew of Ianthe, the woman had never married or had children, and his classmate’s aunt had been one of the hundreds of casualties in the Second War for the simple reason of not supporting Voldy outright. She seemed like a decent and smart woman, a far cry from the flirtatious and upbeat man sat across from Harry now.

She was also over twenty years younger than Alphard.

“You dirty old man. You're a cradle robber,” Harry deadpanned.

“I am not! I’m only just into my fifties, thank you very much," Alphard sniffed indignantly. “Not to mention that Miss Greengrass is thirty already. She's not a child and she’s certainly more than capable of making such choices by herself.”

Harry raised a brow. “And it doesn’t bother you that she’s only one year older than Bellatrix? You know, your niece?”

“That crazy bitch isn’t a part of our family anymore, remember?”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, the poor woman you’re targeting –”

“I’m not targeting anyone!”

“– is only three years older than Andromeda, the oldest of your nieces who are in fact part of the House of Black.”

Alphard sat back in his chair, grumbling under his breath about them both being adults or some such crap that Harry wasn’t honestly listening to. He had way more important things to concern himself with, like those amazing biscuits on the table next to him courtesy of an enthusiastic Kreacher who seemed to love him for the simple fact of him making Regulus happy. It also didn’t hurt that Harry himself liked Kreacher, long having become accustomed to his particular brand of house-elf eccentricity. He wondered if he’d ever find a normal elf, or if crazy _was_ their normal?

He looked up from his treat to see the older man still muttering to himself and Harry resisted the urge to throw a biscuit at his head. (Though it wasn’t that hard to resist, he wasn’t going to waste one of his snacks like that.) Harry honestly didn’t give a shit if the man wanted to pursue a woman twenty-three years younger than him, as long as they were both consenting adults there was no issue as far as he was concerned.

But it was still too funny to keep winding the bastard up.

“I mean, Andromeda’s already a mother and you’re going after someone she went to school with. I suppose they weren’t _actually_ in the same year, so there shouldn’t be a problem if you go for it.

“Good luck, Alphard!” Harry beamed brightly.

The older man shot him a glare and opened his mouth, but before he could say something that would more than likely be exceptionally scathing – it had to be a Black thing with some of the things that came out their mouths – Ophiuchus decided to slither over Harry’s stomach and lift himself up, hovering in mid-air with his head pointed at the Black. Said man snapped his mouth shut and subtly leaned back in his chair, one hand gripping the armrest tightly as kept a close eye on the green reptile.

Harry took a slow breath in through his nose and tried to hold in the giggles he could feel threatening to burst out his mouth. It was hilarious being able to get one over of the idiot in front of him, and with Ophiuchus sat there scaring Alphard into submission there was no way he’d be able to do anything to Harry in retribution. Not that he would anyway, the man was genuinely a nice person and wouldn’t even dare to think about attacking a pregnant person. Pure-blood supremacists or not, the House of Black were totally united in their protection of children.

(It was nice they had at least one redeeming feature, he supposed.)

“I’m back.”

Harry and Alphard turned as one to see Regulus walk through the door and pause briefly, silver eyes briefly surveying the room before making straight for his husband. Harry smiled up at Regulus and happily leaned up into the chaste kiss the other man graced him with. Some quiet snickering and verbal barbs about their marriage echoed in the background and Harry turned to glare at Alphard, eyes widening in surprised delight as he witnessed Regulus silence his uncle and turn his hair pink in rapid succession.

“Uncle Alphard, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were suffering from some sort of head injury rendering you utterly incapable of sticking to appropriate topics of discussion. Perhaps some consequences will help you consider your actions in the future. I'm sure the family will appreciate your improved behaviour.”

The younger Black finished his scathing words with a bland smile that did nothing to disguise the wicked amusement in his eyes, and Harry turned to bury his face in the sofa cushions as he let loose with hysterics. _This family is nuts_.

Alphard suddenly flared his magic and Harry stiffened at the feeling, not appreciating the foreign magic wash over him so intimately. He could feel Regulus move closer as if to shield Harry with his body. “Alphard,” Regulus growled, “I would appreciate it if you didn’t do that in my home next to my pregnant husband.”

He couldn’t see the older man but Harry could imagine what sort of placating gesture he was making considering his words. “Calm down, Regulus. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, I was just dispelling your spells. I didn’t mean any harm by it. I mean, it’s not like I’m trying to get killed this early in the year.”

Harry was fighting a grin at the wary tone before he froze, mind playing over a conversation from years before.

“ _It was early in the year nineteen-eighty. The date was …”_

“That’s it!” Harry exclaimed as he shot up, knocking into Regulus as well as dislodging Ophiuchus who hissed in annoyance.

He looked up into Regulus’ eyes with a grin. “I remembered it! I remembered the date!”

A dawning look of comprehension entered his husband’s eyes, but before either of them could begin to discuss the newest revelation, an unholy shriek emanated from the oldest man in the room, scaring the crap out of Harry and Regulus and making the couple turn to the sound with wands drawn. Instead of a fight or some sort of dangerous problem, the sight was one that made Harry drop his wand and slap a hand across his mouth, snorting and hiccoughing with laughter as Regulus’ lips twitched, wand lowering as he seemed content to let this little drama to play out by itself. But you may ask, what was this drama? What could make a grown man in his fifties scream like a little girl in a pitch not often found in a man’s vocal range?

Ophiuchus was wrapped around Alphard’s neck in the snake’s approximation of a hug.

As the mad man flailed around and kept shrieking for help, Harry quite happily ignored him and turned to his husband with a grin that seemed to make Regulus more than a little wary if he was judging that expression correctly. “Are you up for another adventure, Husband?”

Regulus sighed in a resigned manner. “Harry, what are you planning?”

Harry smirked. This was going to be fun.

* * *

Now, Regulus was a smart man and knew full well that pregnant witches and wizards were far from the helpless and weak people some made them out to be. He knew that pregnant magicals could easily use magical transport like Portkeys and the Floo – Apparition was a little iffy because of possible splinching – and that they could easily use magic freely, doing whatever magic they wanted as long as they didn’t drain themselves and exhaust their bodies. Magical people were designed so they could protect themselves during their pregnancy, so really and truly there was no excuse for acting as if they constantly needed protection.

Regulus knew this, but he was also very much in favour of the tradition of keeping a pregnant witch or wizard at home and safely behind wards until the birth and often past that, ensuring an extra level of security for the more vulnerable members of the family at the time. It was disgusting to think about, but the fact remained that there were some truly vile people in their world that would have no issue with killing a pregnant person who was carrying the future Heir of the family, or even the child or baby itself. (Dementors were disgusting creatures, but were perfectly appropriate for those types of scum.)

Regulus Black was a man who was very content to do things the safe way. He was also a man married to Harry Potter.

“Harry. In absolutely no way do I doubt you or your magical prowess, even your intelligence, but this is a terrible idea. You've only got a month left until you give birth, not to mention there are still plenty of Death Eaters and supporters lingering around. It really isn’t the safest time for us to be out and doing … _this_.

“I mean, stalking and kidnapping is bad enough on a good day, but with you eight-months pregnant it’s just ridiculous,” Regulus muttered irritably.

He didn’t even know why he was trying to coerce his husband back to a logical course of action, he knew full well that Harry would go ahead with his plan regardless of Regulus’ input, meaning it was just simpler to go along with him so he could help if things went south. Not that he was happy about his husband’s stubbornness in this fashion, but the thought of simply knocking Harry out and forcibly dragging him home made his stomach turn. Harry was a grown man and he wasn’t going to disrespect him by treating him like an errant child or a prisoner.

Besides, he could admit that he’d probably act the same if their positions were reversed.

Harry side-eyed him weirdly and raised a brow. “Regulus. You're well-known in the magical community, you were a fantastic student at Hogwarts, and you’re going to be the next Heir Black and eventual Lord Black. You're such a smart and genius man, yet sometimes I sit and look at you and listen to the words that come out your mouth and I wonder.

“I wonder how can this smart man act like such a fucking moron.”

Regulus felt his eye twitch even as Harry ignored him and carried on. “I mean, you know full well _why_ I’m doing this and that it’s a good idea, so really and truly it’s baffling that you act like you have no common sense sometimes.”

He turned to Regulus with a flat look. “I know damn well I didn’t marry an idiot, I married a smart man, so how about you do me a favour and pull your head out your arse, start using your brain, and help me? You know, so we can go home quickly? I’m freezing my tits off out here.”

There was silence in the wake of Harry’s words and Regulus wondered not for the first time what would have happened if he hadn’t met this pint-sized, sassy and foul-mouthed little shit and how much insanity could have been avoided in his life if he’d simply asked Kreacher to do his duty as a good little Black elf and dumped Harry’s body elsewhere.

His mind flashed over the Inferi-filled cave and he winced internally. Then again, he probably would’ve been dead.

Regulus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before lifting his head to look at his husband. “Okay. Let's go through this one more time. This night is the one on which one Sybil Trelawney has the prophecy which essentially fucked up your life, not because of the prophecy itself but because it was overheard by Snape who then relayed it to Voldemort. Also, because Dumbledore bore witness to it, he became obsessed with it and started doing everything in his power to take down Voldemort, no matter the cost.

“However, this time Voldemort is dead so nothing can be conveyed to him, and Severus Snape is currently on the run from the DMLE after every single one of his shady ‘friends’ tried to screw him over to save themselves.

“The only issue is Dumbledore hearing the prophecy and going mad over it, so your plan is to follow Trelawney, temporarily kidnap her until the prophecy’s over and done with, then put her back so she gets the job at the school and that’s everything.”

Harry nodded with a grin. “And maybe stall Dumbledore as he comes down from the castle.”

“And how exactly do you plan on stalling Albus Dumbledore?” Regulus questioned, feeling more than a little exasperated. And in need of a pain-relieving potion of some kind for his pounding headache, but that was neither here nor there.

The other man shrugged casually. “Don’t know. Destruction and carnage maybe?”

“… What.”

Green eyes glinted in a way that promised unparalleled chaos and Regulus couldn’t decide whether he pitied his husband’s target or not. He thought about Harry’s childhood for a second and his pity vanished. _That bastard can suffer._

And by the look of Harry’s demeanour, the old man would suffer immensely.

_I just hope nothing goes wrong._

(Later, Regulus Black would kick himself for jinxing them. And plead for forgiveness from his vicious husband.)

* * *

Harry looked down at the woman trussed up and tied to a chair with rather mixed feelings in his mind.

On the one hand Trelawney wasn’t the brightest bulb around and her tendency to predict the deaths of underage children just to make herself seem like a legitimate Seer annoyed the fuck out of him, not to mention her appalling teaching methods in general. He probably could have learnt more about Divination by self-studying from a book. (You know, if he’d actually had a work ethic during school.)

But then there was the fact that the woman really couldn’t control when and where she got whatever visions or prophecies or whatnot she received as Seers were notorious for having unreliable and obscure powers that came into play through no actions of their own. (And it was very, _very_ begrudgingly that Harry only accepted the woman as a genuine Seer, which she should be bloody grateful for considering her cooking sherry-induced visions had fucked him over sideways from start to finish. Not that he was bitter or anything, of course not! And _no_ , he was not in denial concerning this woman and her actions in relation to his life, Regulus could go screw himself for trying to psychoanalyse Harry all the time, he was perfectly sane, thank you very much. _I mean, have you seen his relatives?_ Harry was downright boring in comparison.)

He studied the woman, ignoring the infamous words which had just passed her lips and wondered how this would affect her career at Hogwarts. Despite his attitude towards her Harry wasn’t a heartless bastard, and he had an annoying feeling he’d probably try and help the crazy woman try and get a job elsewhere if this godawful interview went to shit. He only needed to remember when Umbitch tried to evict her from the castle and her tearful proclamations of Hogwarts being her home to feel at least a little empathy. And hatred for the toad, because who didn’t?

He blinked then shook his head. “Oh well, best get her back before the chess master himself gets curious and comes knocking.”

Harry carefully vanished the ropes around her wrists and watched as the woman blinked into awareness, but before she could focus on his – heavily glamoured - features, Harry flicked his over-powered wand and silently Imperiused her.

He cleared his throat. “You will attend the job interview with Albus Dumbledore and do everything in your power to get the job as Divination professor in a legitimate manner. You will not focus on your powers as a Seer, but you will explain your broad knowledge of different areas of the subject, including things like Palmistry, reading tea leaves and crystal balls, as well as using dreams to analyse Divination’s applications. You will act calm and professional and try and sell yourself as the best person for the job because of your talent and your knowledge of the subject. You will also forget everything about the prophecy you just spoke, as well as being brought here by me and everything about me. You were simply running late because of the weather.”

The man lowered his wand and turned around once the scatter-brained woman pottered out the room, absentmindedly wondering how his beloved and inventive other half had managed to slow down the headmaster. He had a feeling the storm outside was offering ample opportunity to make it seem like natural disasters were plaguing the small village, and he could practically imagine Regulus casually and nonchalantly destroying trees and roads to slow down the aged man coming to interview the drunk Seer, as well as passive-aggressively offer a massive ‘fuck you’ to the man that screwed up Harry’s life in more ways than one.

Regulus' anger was so sweet to witness.

Harry listened for another ten minutes and heard the unforgettable voice that made him want to punch a wall to this day, though once he heard the door across the hall close he left his small booked room and left before he could do something that would earn him his own cell in Azkaban.

_Lying, conniving, manipulative old_ bastard _! I'd love nothing more than to shove a fistful of lemon drops down his lying throat and sit back with a bag of popcorn and watch as the old bastard chokes to death!_

The anger-fuelled ranting proved to be a massive detriment to Harry’s situational awareness, and a loud cracking sound permeated the streets of Hogsmeade as the force of the wind managed to snap a tree in half. Harry jumped a mile at the sound and spun around, green eyes widening as he saw a branch come flying at his head at breakneck speed, too quickly to dodge.

_Fuck_.

The wood slammed into his head and sent him toppling backwards, his momentum only aided by the ferocious gale-force winds. His arms came up to wrap around his stomach for any protection possible, though they proved ineffectual against the low brick wall behind Harry that he fell into directly. Head-first.

The cracking sound made him feel sick almost instantly, as well as the sudden and worrying cramping sensation in his lower stomach. _Jesus Christ, please not now …_ He didn’t have even a second to contemplate this terrifying development though, as the black spots creeping into his blurry vision and rapidly taking over seemed to drain him of energy.

“HARRY!"

His last thought before he lost consciousness was a fervent prayer for Regulus to save their baby, no matter what.

* * *

Arcturus could be a cold man and had no compunctions admitting this fact.

He acted in ways that he thought would benefit the House of Black first and foremost, and he worked fervently to uphold their reputation and place on their society regardless of childish emotions getting in the way. Their House was his responsibility and he would always do his utmost to maintain their place in the magical world.

Family was another matter entirely.

No matter how much he tried to be cold and aloof, Arcturus genuinely cared for his family despite finding it difficult to showcase his emotions so openly. Melania was probably the biggest exception to this rule, though it was an exception that he genuinely embraced seeing as he could easily say that he loved his wife. His children and grandchildren were also people he would do his utmost to see happy, even if Sirius made him want to hex the brat more often than not with his tempestuous ways.

The point was, just because Arcturus didn’t openly show his softer side and acted caring towards his family in an affectionate manner didn’t mean that he didn’t care for them and want them to be happy.

Which was why the sight of his younger grandson staring at the wall in blank agony made him feel physically sick.

He couldn’t say he fully understood the situation though; both times Melania had given birth it had been entirely natural when her body decided it was time for her to bring her unborn children into the world. His wife had never suffered an accident that caused premature labour and knocked her out, necessitating an emergency operation to save both parent and child because something had gone wrong and natural labour couldn’t occur.

Regulus looked beside himself, both terrified and in shock at his husband being in this current state, and it probably didn’t help that the Healer barred him from the room while she operated with her team. His grandson looked to be a moment away from snapping and going crazy, a very real possibility with their particular Family magic. Arcturus couldn’t help but pray to Magic that his first great-grandchild was going to be born safely, and that Hadrian made it through safe and happy.

Hadrian was someone he’d never considered his grandson marrying, especially so quickly, but seeing Regulus over the past year come out of his shell and grow into a confident and happy man – albeit with less restraint and a fouler mouth than Arcturus would have liked, no doubt thanks to Hadrian – was uplifting to see. Being able to witness his grandson live and change was a heartening experience, and Arcturus was beyond grateful to Hadrian for doing this for Regulus, so much so that he could say for certain that Regulus would not be the only Black crushed if things went wrong with the birth.

He flicked his eyes around the room; Melania sat next to Regulus silently with one of his hands clasped in hers, Alphard uncharacteristically silent and serious from his place leaning against the wall next to the fireplace, Dorea and Charlus side by side on the sofa in the corner, and Orion absentmindedly flicking through a book, eyes seeing but not really registering any of the words on the pages.

Not everyone was here of course, but he had a feeling inviting the entire family for something of this nature was simply asking for trouble. Everyone had their ways of coping with stress, and some of their more volatile relatives would only serve to act as a spark to the powder keg in this room. Like Cassiopeia. His cousin had a tendency to unleash her sharp tongue and shower people with caustic barbs when uneasy, and he could only see that ending in blood or death. Or both. Dorea would easily try and kill her sister for an inevitable slight against her stepson, Charlus would join his wife, Orion would attempt to mediate and piss off Cassiopeia, Melania would go ballistic at someone insulting her only son, and Alphard would stand in the corner and mock them all. And Regulus might actually kill someone trying to shut them all up. And they’d _all_ be Arcturus’ responsibility.

He could _feel_ the migraine developing at the thought.

_Thank Merlin that woman’s not here_. The situation was bad enough without tempers running high and people turning on each other just to avoid dealing with the possible tragedy in the other room. Which, to be honest, even _he_ didn’t want to delve into, even in the privacy of his own mind. The idea of anything happening to Hadrian …

The feeling of wards dropping jolted Arcturus and he turned to the door in time to watch it swing open, the Healer stepping into the tense room with ease despite the occupants staring at her intensely, eyes piercing into her as if could all use wandless Legilimency and pluck the information they wanted from her very mind.

The Healer – he couldn’t remember her name – paused before smiling widely at them all, her tired face lighting up and dispelling the worry around them even without the words.

“Everyone is perfectly healthy.” She turned to Regulus and smiled softly. “Your husband is fine, Mister Black. A few weeks of potions and bed rest and he’ll be as good as new. And congratulations, you're now a father. It might have been a month early, but there were no detrimental side effects to the early labour. From what I can tell, your husband actually went into labour naturally, not because of the accident. The knock to the head only exacerbated the potential for complications, it didn’t cause any to occur, so the birth was entirely as planned by your husband’s body.”

Regulus let out a shaky breath then cleared his throat. “So, they’re okay? Harry and the baby?”

The woman nodded tiredly. “Mister Black is going to be fine with some care, and as to your baby, they too are in perfect health.”

At Regulus’ sigh of relief, the woman grinned mischievously. “Though I do believe you might be a little shocked, Mister Black.”

His grandson blinked and narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well …”

As the woman spoke, Arcturus could see everyone in the room widen their eyes in shock and he tried not to snort.

_Only those two._

* * *

Harry blinked back to awareness and groaned, the ache in his muscles practically screaming at him as he mentally felt over his body. It hurt to _breathe_.

“Merlin, no wonder McGonagall didn’t want us facing a troll. I bet this is what it feels like facing one and losing.”

“And pray tell, exactly _when_ did you manage to face a troll in the school?”

He turned, wincing at the pain, to come face-to-face with a rather unimpressed Regulus, his face paler than usual and dark circles under his eyes. He looked … a mess, to put it plainly. He certainly didn’t look like the proud and put-together Black that Harry enjoyed messing with, this was a man whose rumpled clothes and exhausted demeanour set off all manner of alarm bells in his head. What the hell had happened to his husband?

Regulus raised an unimpressed brow. “A troll?”

Harry blinked. “Huh? Oh, that. Well, long story short, when I was eleven and Voldy was after the stone – I told you about that, right? – he tried to distract everyone by letting in a troll. One of the girls in my year was hiding in the toilets upset and didn’t know about it so I went to find her with a classmate. The three of us ended up facing the thing and it only got knocked out because of a lucky Levitation Charm.”

“Why didn’t you mention this before?” Regulus questioned quietly.

“Honestly? After everything in my life, fighting in a war even, having a small fight like that doesn’t really rate up there.”

As Regulus clenched his eyes shut, lips moving as if muttering to himself, Harry shifted once more and hissed at the aching feeling of his body, especially in his stomach. Now he thought about it, he could have sworn there was something he was forgetting. He couldn’t remember a single thing that had led to him ending up unconscious – though he was disturbingly used to such a situation from his many, many stays in the hospital wing at school – but he knew it was important somehow. Harry carefully lifted his head and looked down his body, focusing on his stomach.

His flat stomach.

Heedless of his muscles screaming in protest, Harry froze all over, tense and panicking as his thoughts all decided to come rushing back at once. That _stupid_ trip just so Dumbledore wouldn’t hear the prophecy, being knocked out, the feeling of contractions before he passed out …

Before he could start having a breakdown, a very familiar pair of lips crushed to his, rough and less composed than Regulus usually liked. Harry couldn’t think as he was grabbed by the arms and pulled to a muscled body that he probably would have appreciated if he weren’t terrified because _what the fuck happened to my baby?_

Regulus pulled back breathing hard and glared at him. “You’ll be fucking lucky if I let you out of my sight any time soon.”

With those words – sounding a strange amalgamation of furious and relieved – Regulus pulled back and gently helped Harry sit up, all the while muttering darkly about headstrong Gryffindors and crazy husbands and something about being a walking magnet for disasters.

(When Harry eventually calmed down, he would be rather offended by these words.)

His husband stood up and moved to the side, pulling a smaller cot towards the bed and Harry felt short of breath, eyes wide and vaguely terrified at what obviously held his child. Clearly nothing had gone wrong – Regulus was many things, but cruel for the sake of being cruel was not one of them – but this was so far from what Harry had expected it was surreal. He was supposed to have gone into labour naturally, not been knocked out and wake up to find himself no longer pregnant. Labour was going to be the process where he finally came fully to terms with having a child. This was more, ‘here’s a baby, have fun!’

_Oh Merlin, I’m a dad now._

He took a deep breath and peered over into the small cot, very much appreciating the arms wrapped around his shoulders and steadying him. The blankets were thick and white, the wooden walls padded for safety, and Harry could see soft flowers engraved around the wooden structure itself. The entire thing was beautiful and practical, encasing the tiny baby with downy black hair like Regulus’ and skin that was still red from birth. They were dressed in a pale-yellow outfit and were currently snoozing peacefully with their head turned to the left.

As was the second and very much identical child on their right.

“What,” he said flatly.

Regulus bent down and buried his face in Harry’s neck, who was still staring bewildered into the cot where there were _two_ children, not the singular child Harry had spent months preparing himself for. _What the actual fuck?_

“I do believe, dearest Husband,” Regulus said into his neck – and Harry could _feel_ the grin; _bastard_ – as he wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist from behind, “that we may need a different Healer for the next pregnancy. I find their competence at discerning vital facts about a pregnancy rather worrying.”

Harry stared at the babies with a deadpan expression. “Twins. Two children.” He turned around ignoring his protesting muscles and looked Regulus in the eye. “How the fuck do you miss an entire bloody baby just sat there in my stomach?! Didn’t the moron say something about magical signatures or some such crap?”

“Not even half a day old, and they’re already being exposed to your vulgar language,” Regulus muttered under his breath.

“Oh, fuck off.”

Regulus glared at him for a second before sighing. “In the Healer’s defence, twins are actually quite rare for magical couples, and identical twins usually have the same exact magic so they’re harder to detect.”

Harry raised a brow. “Are you defending him?”

“I am entirely on your side, my beautiful husband.”

He tried to glare but he could feel his lips twitch and gave in to the grin, feeling lighter than ever that he was a _father_. He had a husband, and a family, and now he had his own children with someone he loved. Granted there was one more than what he was expecting at this particular time – _qualified Healer, my arse_ – but he was … happy. Content. He didn’t have to worry about being with someone who would treat their children horribly, he could simply live and be free. Him, his husband, and their …

Harry blinked before turning to Regulus with a sheepish expression. “Er, are they boys or girls?”

Regulus looked down at him with an expression that clearly conveyed ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ before rolling his eyes. “I can’t believe it took you that long to ask. I'll do you the courtesy of believing it’s because of your recent bout of unconsciousness, though.”

… _Kids, your father’s a sarcastic prick._

His husband smirked in his face before the expression softened into a genuine smile, the man bending down to press a kiss to his head before resting his chin on Harry’s hair as he looked at the sleeping infants.

“We have two daughters."

Harry reached out with trembling hands and brushed the tips of his fingers over their cheeks – his babies, his _daughters_ – feeling his breath hitch. His eyes were rather wet too, though he honestly couldn’t give a crap seeing as he was only with Regulus right now. Crying didn’t make him weak, it made him human. Just because he was a man didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to express emotion, and there was no way he was going to feel embarrassed about being overwhelmed that he was a parent.

He had the family he’d always wanted.

“So,” Regulus began slowly, murmuring into his ear, sounding in awe of their two new-borns, “have you thought of names? I know stars and constellations are a family tradition, but as it stands girls in our family aren’t always given such names. Narcissa, Dorea, Elladora … They’re just a few examples.”

Harry cleared his throat, eyes never leaving the tiny forms in front of him. “I was actually pretty fond of two star names for girls. Lyra and Carina. I couldn’t decide between them, though. What about you?”

Regulus hummed. “I think Carina Black and Lyra Black are perfect. At least we won’t struggle with the middle names now.”

Harry snorted, remembering that particular conversation and the resulting mutual worry over a potential middle name for a daughter. _I suppose it’s a good thing we managed to get it down to two choices._

Regulus smiled down at his daughters. “So, I do believe we should introduce the two newest daughters of the House of Black to the rest of the family.”

“Carina Melania Black and Lyra Dorea Black.”

Harry enjoyed the blessed silence for a second before thinking about their extended family.

“You poor girls are going to be so screwed up by the time you’re adults.”

“Harry!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> And the baby is revealed! And so is the other one lol. I love the idea of Harry going to so much trouble to prepare for just one baby then having twins. (Not in the story, but he totally fires his Healer. He's not impressed XD) Before anyone says anything about me using the name 'Lyra' again in another fic, I just really like the name. Also, there are only so many star names that can be used for girls. And I'm the author and I say so lol
> 
> I hope you guys liked it, and I'll see you for the next chapter. (When I get the time to actually plan and write the damn thing.)
> 
> See ya!


	6. Can we ever do things normally?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own 'Harry Potter'

Harry gazed down at the baby girl in his arms, taking in the dark messy hair and pale skin, the face so like his own and tried not to say anything too unbecoming in the face of an innocent child who didn't deserve to be exposed to his usual language at this particular moment. 

Though he really,  _really_ wanted to cry right about now. 

Anyone around him might wonder at that, wonder what might possibly be the problem with him holding the perfectly healthy and happy little girl, wonder why he wanted to go and hibernate for an unspecified length of time in a faraway location despite the deliriously happy occasion. The fact of the matter is, the situation was completely  _ridiculous_ , and his husband was an unrepentant bastard who kept laughing in his face whenever everybody else's back was turned. Why, you may ask? It's simple, really. 

The girl he was holding was  _not_ his own child, was not one of his darling little twins who were the most perfect people on this entire planet, and was in fact the brand-new daughter that Lily Potter had just given birth to, a cute little daughter that looked eerily identical to the photographs Harry still had of his own time as a baby. A girl instead of the boy Harry had assumed would be born, seeing as, you know, he'd thought it would be  _his_ younger self that his once-mother would be popping out. 

Basically, the newest Potter was a female version of him, and Regulus thought it was hilarious and kept taking the piss out of him whenever she was mentioned. 

_Wanker_. 

He lifted his head and smiled gently at Lily – all the while ignoring that infuriating smirk on his husband's face he so wanted to punch – as he shifted the girl. “She's beautiful, Lily. Congratulations.” 

The woman who'd been his mother in another time and was now a close friend –  _which funnily enough_ isn't  _the weirdest crap to come from my trip through time_  – shifted focus away from her daughter to meet Harry's eyes, looking in awe and delighted despite her exhausted visage. Apparently childbirth when it happened naturally was no walk in the park, and naturally Harry was glad he'd avoided that particular agony. (For now, anyway. He had a feeling Regulus would make sure he got pregnant again at some point, even if only for him to experience the nightmare that was giving birth. Because he was a tosser, end of discussion.) 

“Thank you. I just hope she doesn't end up with James' brain as she gets older,” the woman replied dryly, leaning back into her pillows wearily and wincing slightly. 

Harry snorted. “Yeah, good luck with that. Though considering she's obviously a Potter, you might have no luck avoiding that particular insanity.” 

“You do realise you're a Potter too, don't you?” Regulus asked pointedly. “Are you finally admitting what we've all known all along?” 

“I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. I think you'll find my legal name is Hadrian Black, thank you very much. If there's anything wrong with me now, it's on your batshit-crazy relatives,” Harry retorted with a smirk. 

Lily giggled before groaning in pain, hissing as she curled into herself with a grimace. “Bollocks, that hurts. Note to self: don't laugh like an idiot hours after giving birth.” 

Harry grinned cheekily. “At least you know for next time.” 

Lily shot him a venomous glare that would have been ten times worse if she was actually feeling up to trying to incinerate him through the power of eyesight – a fact Harry was quite grateful for, truth be told; he wasn't a masochist, for Christ's sake – and bit out, “If that bastard thinks he's ever coming within ten feet of me with that dick of his again, he's got another thing coming. Miracle of life, my fucking arse.” 

The time traveller was holding himself still and biting into his tongue to stop himself from breaking down in hysterics. Not only would that upset the new-born dozing in his arms –  _speaking of which, is it narcissistic to say she looks cute? Even if she looks like me? Jesus Christ, there's no simple way to deal with this_  – but it would probably draw the fiery rage of the redhead laying in front of him like he had a flashing target on his head.  _No thanks, I'm good._  

Lily was ferociously pissed off right now at having had to be in labour for a good fifteen hours – another thing Harry had thankfully avoided;  _all hail the power of magical operations_ _!_  – she was resolutely planning to live the rest of her marriage in complete celibacy –  _something tells me that’s_ _not going to happen_  – and she was already panicking about her daughter turning into the miniature female version of James Potter (which admittedly was a worrisome idea to consider, though perhaps a tad premature). All the while muttering under her breath about what sort of graphic and violent revenge she was going to enact on her husband, in between lamenting her situation by cursing like a sailor. 

This woman was the furthest thing from the loving and wholesome woman people had described to his younger self, and Harry  _loved_ it. 

Before Harry could reply – and maybe subtly wind her up so she'd keep swearing and making Regulus roll his eyes in the corner;  _go, Lily_  – there was an echoing cheer from downstairs before a smashing sound cut off the voices. The woman in bed stilled, narrowed eyes staring at the door as if she was about to go stomping out the room and give the other men in the house a piece of her mind. Seeing as she'd literally given birth hours ago – not even double digits hours ago – that was a  _bad_ idea. And Harry knew a thing or two about bad ideas. He carried them out all the time and ended up rolling with the spontaneous and bewildering punches that came with the territory. 

(Hey, no matter what Regulus said, he was quite aware of his 'curiosity killed the cat' tendencies, thank you very much. He just happened to enjoy pretending the possible dire consequences didn't exist for the fun of it. Besides, his sarcastic husband should be grateful he was even like that, unless of course he liked the prospect of living in a lake as one of Voldy's living dead puppets. Not to mention their marriage? Their children? His bad ideas were  _brilliant_. 

And that was the story he'd stick to for evermore.  _(Also known as, 'fuck you,_ _Regulus_ _'_ _.)_ ) 

Regulus stood up and huffed to himself. “I think I'll go and see just what those imbeciles are doing down there. It can't be anything good judging from those sounds.” He rolled his eyes at Harry's laugh-slash-cough and turned to Lily with a rather gentle expression considering his reputation. “Congratulations on the birth of your first child –” there was another crash from the floor below – “and I shall continue to pray that she inherits your common sense rather than that of her sire. If that comes to pass, she'll have no hope.” 

Lily clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the howling laughter trying to erupt, and Harry grinned widely at his husband's vicious derision as the taller man strode out the door, determinedly searching for the cause of whatever destruction was happening elsewhere in the Godric's Hollow cottage. (Harry had a feeling whatever was going on would turn Lily's face the colour of her hair if she found out. Or  _when_ she found out, as was probably the case for the bull-headed Gryffindor woman.) 

“You know,” he began, watching as Lily slowly calmed down and turned to him with an enquiring expression, “I'm not sure if you've realised this yet, but there's something you haven't told me about your daughter yet.”  _And we're still not touching on baby Potter being a girl, no way, no how, nope,_ _not going to happen. And she's not an example of how I should've been female or anything,_ _Regulus_ _can kiss my arse._  He paused and considered that.  _Then again …_  

He shook off the wildly inappropriate (for the situation) thoughts and met green eyes as Lily furrowed her brows and puzzled through his words. “What do you mean? What haven't I told you?” 

“Her name,” he deadpanned. 

Her eyes widened and an embarrassed flush painted itself across her pale skin, and Harry watched bemusedly as the mortification seemed to seep into every inch of the woman as she fidgeted in bed with eyes averted. 

“Oh, fucking hell … How did I even manage to forget  _that_?” 

Harry thought about making her feel better and recounting the moment he was too besotted at the sight of his twins to ask about their gender, but then again he enjoyed being a twat, and Lily was someone who was usually doing the laughing, not being laughed at. 

She could suffer for once. 

“So, what  _is_ baby Potter called? Did you name her after a relative, or has she got her own name?” Truth be told, he'd always been a little curious as to what his parents would have named him if he'd been a girl; ‘Harry’ was downright boring in comparison to some of the names magicals bestowed on their children.  _Seriously, who looks at a baby and thinks, ‘this kid’s definitely a Quirinus’? No wonder the poor sod ran off to join the dark side the first chance he got. And now I think about it, what's with all the alliteration? Peter Pettigrew, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Poppy_ _Pomfrey_ _... I could bloody go on all day at this rate._  

Lily cleared her throat and flicked her eyes back to her daughter in Harry's arms, expression softening to something he recognised intimately from being with his own children. She lifted her arms and gestured towards the tiny girl, gently pulling the baby towards her chest and stroking the fine black hair. 

“It's Azalea. Azalea Lily Potter.” 

Harry smiled gently. “It's a lovely name.” It was lovely, and a nice combination of unique and normal that wouldn't make anyone side-eye Lily and James weirdly upon hearing it.  _Kudos to them._  

“Thanks. Though the name isn't really the issue, I'm more torn on the problem of godparents. How the bloody hell am I supposed to choose only one godmother and godfather from all our friends?” Lily moaned wearily. 

He huffed lightly. “Why do you think Lyra and Carina don't have any yet?”  

A small chuckle was all the response he got and he shot her a small grin, eyes unconsciously lowering to look at the baby again. Azalea. He wondered if she'd end up having green eyes and looking even more like his gender-swapped mini-me, and just how much he'd have to fuck with Regulus as revenge for what would undoubtedly be some rather bitchy piss-taking as was his husband's forte. He was a bastard, after all, but he was Harry's bastard, so he supposed it all worked out in the end. 

Before he could say anything, a sharp knock sounded on the door and a harried Regulus poked his head in. Despite the visible frustration, Harry could also see the well-hidden amusement flashing in his eyes so he knew nothing was terribly wrong. Then again, ‘not terribly wrong’ left a lot of room for error. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but we've got a slight ...  _situation_ downstairs.” 

Harry raised a brow in question. “Dare I even ask?”  _What's going on now?_  

“Apparently my brother's penchant for behaving in the most inconvenient manner possible is something his child will also suffer from,” the silver-eyed man said dryly. He looked back and forth between two sets of green eyes and smirked. “This will definitely be a day to remember in years to come. 

“Sirius is in labour.” 

The room was silent for a few seconds before a flat “What?” emanated from the solitary woman and Harry lost it, falling face-first into the duvet and cackling, snorting like a genuine pig from the lack of oxygen. He could feel tears in his eyes and his stomach hurt from laughing, but he honestly couldn't help it. 

Sirius. In labour. The same day as baby Potter popped into being. 

_How does this shit even happen?_  

* * *

Regulus stood next to the bed where his brother lay gazing down at his child in a disgustingly-affectionate manner – that in no way resembled how he looked at his daughters,  _shut the hell up_ _,_ _Harry_  – and tried not to snort at his brother giving birth the same day as the Potters. It was ridiculous, though he could admit the situation was rather intriguing. 

He had a nephew. 

A baby boy, with soft tawny hair and features that looked as if they’d grow into the Black looks in time. Admittedly, the infant was gorgeous to look at, though considering both his parents, Regulus wasn’t holding out much hope for his personality as he grew up. He even had Potter and Evans as his godparents, he had no chance. (And yes, he was well aware that Evans was now Lady Potter  _(poor woman)_  and he should address her by her current name, but the idea of there being two adults he called ‘Potter’ left him off-kilter. He certainly wasn’t going to start conversing with them using their given names, he wasn’t  _Harry_. Not to mention it was  _not_ done in formal conversation. But mostly because ignoring propriety was Harry’s thing, not his. His thing was sitting back and watching insufferable, stuck-up cretins get offended at his husband’s vernacular, it was glorious.) 

The child was someone who, to be technical,  _should_ have been the Head of the House of Black at some point, but because his brother was a tempestuous pain in the arse, was now a Lupin, not a Black. By the feel of it, he hadn’t even inherited the familiar dark magic their family was famous for. Knowing Sirius, he’d managed to subconsciously will his body into magically bearing a child that wasn’t a Black, just to make sure they wouldn’t be dragged back in to lead things years down the line. 

On the one hand that sounded like utter bollocks, but on the other he was married to  _Harry_. His definition of ‘possible’ had been expanded somewhat in the past year. 

“So, have you decided on a name? I’d ask if you planned to continue the family tradition, but I think we both know the answer to that already.” 

Identical silver eyes glared at him, the exhaustion doing nothing to disguise how he despised that idea. “No, I'm bloody well not!” 

“First my children, now my nephew. Are all my young relatives going to be exposed to such vile language as soon as they’re born?” Regulus muttered mournfully. He was surrounded by idiots. 

His brother scoffed and pulled his son closer. “If you’re that bothered by it, why are you even talking to me?” 

The younger man raised a brow derisively. “Have you met my husband? I can guarantee, Brother, nothing you can say to me will ever compare to the atrocities he spouts on a regular basis.” 

At Sirius’ questioning look he continued. “There’s a reason that Uncle Alphard loves him and Grandfather Arcturus continues to mourn the continuing presence of grey in his hair.” 

Sirius’ lips twitched and he snorted, holding himself back so he didn’t jostle the napping new-born.  _Ten galleons he wakes up soon and ends up as loud as the idiot he’s lying on._  

After a couple of minutes of watching his brother laugh and giggle lovingly at his son – and  _no_ , he wasn’t giddy and happy himself at Sirius having a child and letting him share in the moment as if they were a true family again, and he  _certainly_ wasn’t learning to forgive Sirius or any such crap Harry might suggest with a sly grin on his annoyingly-attractive face; his husband could be a right twat when he wanted – Regulus cleared his throat, ignoring what was (definitely not!) warming him inside. 

“I wasn’t joking though, has the boy actually got a name yet?” 

The older man rolled his eyes and huffed, but shot Regulus a small, genuine smile all the same. 

“We decided on Alexander.” 

“That’s … more traditional than I was expecting from you, truth be told,” Regulus mused. “I mean, clearly there’s no astronomy connotation as per usual for the family, but a decent name from Greek mythology wasn’t something I’d considered. You know, seeing as you once named the family owl ‘Wings’,” he added wryly. 

His brother flushed deeply. “I was five, you prick! That doesn’t count!” 

“Sure, sure,” he waved with a smirk. This was funnily enough close to the discussion he had with Harry upon purchasing that demented serpent who was currently overjoyed at the two brand-new ‘hatchlings’ he got to observe on a daily basis. He wondered what it said about the people in his life that they continuously said things that indicated a deep-seated – and rather desperate – need for a Mind-Healer, but considering he’d voluntarily married one of the morons, he supposed he didn’t have much room to talk. 

“And as for middle names, I decided on Remus,” he added with a glare at Regulus. (Said glare was rather pathetic in comparison to some of the ones he'd witnessed from Harry, though perhaps his husband having eyes the same shade as the Killing Curse upped the fear factor a bit.) 

Regulus raised a brow bemusedly. “Don't you mean you and Lupin both chose his name for your son?” 

“No, I mean  _I_  chose it and badgered Remus ‘til he caved.” 

The younger of the two wondered if Sirius realised how passive-aggressive he was being right now. First, he went and got pregnant out of wedlock, then he eloped and took the name of his werewolf lover –  _Walburga's_ _face would be hilarious to witness_  – then upon giving birth ensured that every part of his son's name  _wasn't_ like the House of Black. Even more, he used the Black tradition of naming a son after his father, but ensured the child bore the name of the non-Black parent instead. 

His brother was essentially being a snarky bitch. Though Regulus would give him points for subtlety. For once. 

Lost in amused contemplation over the other man's digs at their family – and how there might actually be multiple layers to the hot-headed imbecile – he missed the sedate expression work its way across Sirius’ face. 

“You know,” his brother started slowly, teeth absentmindedly chewing his lip as the man studied Regulus warily, “I still …” The older man sighed and met his eyes head on, familiar determination lighting up the silver orbs, though thankfully without the glint of cruelty Regulus recognised from school. “Despite all the crap that’s happened, and all the – all the times I’ve fucked up and … let you down, we’re family. At least, we’re related.” 

Regulus watched bewilderedly as his shitty – and perhaps not-so-shitty after all – brother looked at him with no small amount of guilt and conviction, for the first time looking like a grown man owning up to his mistakes. It wasn’t a sight he’d expected to see any time soon, if at all, and truthfully a sight he’d – perhaps foolishly, buried deep in the back of his mind – craved to see ever since Sirius came back from Hogwarts for the first time and spoke of another as if he were more of a brother than Regulus himself. 

He couldn’t decide if this situation was more disconcerting or heartening. 

“My point is, we’re – we’re family,” Sirius carried on, seemingly not realising he was repeating himself in his flustered state. “And we’ve got our own kids now, and I want them to be family, too.”  _Huh, Grandmother must have finally got_ _ten_ _through his thick skull._  “All of them, my son, your girls, James’ daughter, they’re all family.” The older man looked down at the dozing infant before focusing piercing silver on him. 

“James might be his godfather, but you’re his uncle.” 

Regulus might not have moved outwardly, but on the inside he was stunned. More than acknowledging they were family once more – something the other had  _never_ done at school – he'd recognised Regulus as family to his child, a defenceless baby, a baby he could have sheltered from the House of Black entirely. (Though his husband’s mention of Melania Black bullying Sirius into allowing her access to his progeny might have made a memorable impression in his brother’s subconscious. His grandmother was rather skilled at getting her way, after all.) 

Making a split-second decision – something that indicated he’d spent too much time with Harry if he was displaying Gryffindor-like tendencies;  _truly disgusting_  – he smiled at his brother, disregarding the mocking smirk for once. 

“You might be my daughters’ uncle, but I’d like to also name you Carina’s godfather, if you’re amenable.” 

Wide grey eyes blinked a few times before his brother’s face lit up and he nodded rapidly, beaming as he did.  

“I’d love to!” 

_Maybe the next generation can have a better family than we did._  

“Wait a minute,” Sirius muttered with a furrowed brow. He shot Regulus a suspicious look and studied him intensely. “You didn’t name me godfather to one-up me, did you?” 

_What the fuck is he on about?_ “What nonsense are you spouting now?” 

“I didn’t name you godfather, but you did for me!” Sirius exclaimed while jabbing a finger in his direction. “Are you trying to be the better man or something?” 

_Oh, for the love of …_  

“Congratulations,  _Brother_ , you’ve proved once more that your lack of intellect goes hand in hand with your lack of common sense. There's a reason dogs aren’t known for their brains, you know.” 

“You stuck-up, little  _bastard_! You’re  _always_ like this, having to be the one that comes out on top every time!” 

“You self-centred, obnoxious –” 

“Self-centred?! Have you forgotten the time you –” 

“As soon as you’re done holding that child, I’m going to curse –” 

“Bring it on! Or have you forgotten you’re talking to an  _Auror_ –” 

“There’s no  _way_ you weren’t dropped on your head as a child –” 

“Says the one who –” 

As the two brothers descended into petty bickering interspersed with casual threats of murder and/or grievous bodily harm, Harry was stood just outside the door leaning against the wall, fist shoved into his mouth to silence the hysterical laughter threatening to spill out and alert the two stooges inside. 

It was nice to have confirmation that, despite Regulus’ resolute proclamations, he really didn’t marry a mature man. 

Hearing the conversation devolve into unresolved childhood spats, Harry stumbled off down the hall with tears in his eyes and made his way towards the floo room. It'd be nice to see his babies again, even if they clearly had no hope. 

Between him and Regulus, their children were doomed to insanity. 

* * *

“Hello again, Hadrian. How have you been?” 

“I’ve been good. How about you, Narcissa?” 

The blonde woman smiled serenely at him, the expression beatific if understated, and she shifted the tiny child in her arms before gazing lovingly down at him. 

Lovingly at baby Draco who was a hell of a lot cuter than Harry would have expected of the ferret. 

“I’ve been wonderful. Raising a child is certainly more demanding than what we’re led to believe, though it is infinitely more rewarding in return. I cannot fathom those who leave child-rearing to elves and simply act as a concept in their children’s minds rather than a continuous presence. It's revolting when you consider the ramifications.” 

Harry nodded along with her, genuinely agreeing while making sure his inner bemusement didn’t appear on his face. This Narcissa Malfoy was a far cry from the quiet and cold blonde from before who merely stood at Lucius’ side and allowed her son to join the Death Eaters. He knew from before that she hadn’t actually joined herself but was a supporter simply from being Lucius’ wife. He didn’t have any concrete evidence, but he had a feeling that with Voldy hanging over their heads like a psychotic cloud of doom, and Lucius going along with it thanks to his inherent stupidity, Narcissa had had to sit back and let her husband spoil and raise their son as a pawn rather than a child. It wouldn’t surprise Harry if Malfoy Jr. had in fact been raised by elves, he was about as subtle as one. 

This Narcissa however was quietly confident, visibly content, and obviously loving towards her son, without any apparent fear that she wasn’t supposed to be that way with her own child. It seemed that the Dark Tosser being dead and gone for good, as well as the craziest of crazy followers being taken out of the picture, had left the Malfoy family with a better set up than before.  _Hell, this Draco Malfoy might actually end up a decent bloke._  

He thought about that and shuddered. That was too fucking weird to think about. 

“I don’t think I could let anyone else raise my kids, even if we had loads to look after. I mean, they’d be  _mine_. Why would I let anyone else get to experience all the important parts?” Harry grumbled as he thought about the idiocy of pawning kids off on someone else just because you couldn’t be arsed to look after them yourself. 

That wasn’t a parent, that was a DNA donor.  

Narcissa smiled. “I quite agree.” Draco whimpered in his sleep and the woman leaned down to soothe the child, murmuring softly to reassure her son before looking at Harry again. “Have you finally decided on godparents for the girls yet?” 

“Just two left,” he said with a wry grin, knowing it was more than a little unusual for magical children not to have a full set of godparents at three months already. “Of course the godfathers are done, with Sirius and Frank Longbottom for Carina and Lyra, respectively.” Because Regulus had strangely enough managed to make a friend in the former Gryffindor during his quest to usurp control of the Board of Governors.  _My husband, making actual_ friends  _with a lion, I'm so proud!_  (Not that he’d say something so patronising in front of the man he married. Unless he could channel the resulting frustration into sex, anyway.) 

“Regulus is actually with Andromeda as we speak, asking her to be godmother to Lyra.” 

Harry watched as a flash of what seemed to be resignation flash through her eyes, though whether that was because her sister was being asked to be godmother or because her relationship with Andromeda was still rather rocky after so many years of separation, Harry had no clue. Though he wasn’t powerless to help, especially as his next words would provide no end of opportunities to bring them closer. 

“As for Carina, we’d like for you to be her godmother.” 

And it wasn’t all thanks to Regulus, either. Since meeting her younger version at the wedding, Harry had met Narcissa at least once a month and got on weirdly well with the aristocratic woman. For all that she was more well-spoken and resolutely maintained her pure-blood poise, she was startlingly intelligent and just  _nice_. He had no illusions that she was as deadly as every other member of her birth family, but she was just subtler about it. She was the knife in the back you wouldn’t feel until you dropped dead unexpectedly, never expecting the charming blonde to dare kill you. 

Harry thought she was amazing. 

He watched as pure shock laced through the sky-blue eyes she’d inherited from her maternal family, the woman looking amusingly befuddled. “You … are you certain? Carina is your firstborn, and if you and Regulus have no more children, she’ll more than likely be Lady Black in the future. Being a godparent to an heir of the family is a rather prestigious position.” 

The time traveller waved her off. “Narcissa, this has nothing to do with position or the line of succession, it’s because I’d like for my daughter to have a strong female influence in her life, both of them. You and your sister fit the bill there. I mean, Dorea and Melania are around, but they’ll be more grandmother figures. And no offence, but your aunt Cassiopeia is a bit too mad for my tastes,” he added dryly. 

He grinned at her startled laugh, watching a slight flush erupt over her face at his blunt description of Cassiopeia Black.  _If anything I was being too casual, the woman’s fucking mental, no way in_ hell  _would I let her be godmother to the girls, she’d probably have them hexing and stabbing people before they could walk._  

“I suppose your summation of my great-aunt's character isn’t entirely inaccurate,” Narcissa demurred with a slight upturn of her lips.  _How amazingly democratic._  “Though getting back to the previous topic, I would be delighted to be Carina’s godmother, regardless of her possibly earning the family title in the future.” 

(Not that Narcissa was  _wrong_ or anything – no daughter of his would ever feel as if she were worth less or anything just because she was female; the sexist morons of their society were going to get a wake up call if he had anything to say about it – but there were other factors that would affect the family succession at play. Firstly, no way in  _hell_  was he going to be the only one to suffer from pregnancy (Regulus could have a taste of that particular torture himself) so he  _would_ be having more children, secondly, if his intuition was right, Orion himself would be graciously adding to the family tree himself soon enough with what would probably be a new spouse when he got around to proposing –  _still need to figure who the hell it is, though_  – and lastly, there was the fact that any Black could be named Heir as long as they had the blood, main line or not. Even if Alphard got his way and settled down with that poor woman, their potential offspring – G _od, I hope they get their mother’s personality_  – would also be eligible. Narcissa was getting a little ahead of herself.) 

Harry beamed at her. “Great! Now we have godparents sorted, and it only took three months to do.” 

An airy laugh was his response and he pouted playfully at the blonde woman. “Narcissa, don’t be mean to me!” He sobered slightly and cocked his head to the side. “Speaking of, have you decided for Draco yet?" 

Blue eyes met green as Narcissa nodded. “There was an older girl at school who assisted me often, and we’ve kept in contact for years now; she’s a rather close friend. I’ve asked Miss Ianthe Greengrass to be Draco’s godmother." 

_Speaking of the poor woman suffering Alphard’s advances. It really is a small world._  

“As for Draco’s godfather, Lucius was considering asking Lord Nott, but I don’t wish for Draco to forget the Black side of his heritage, so I shall be asking Regulus to act as godfather.” 

_So basically, you’ve railroaded your husband into letting your choices be the only choices,_ and  _you managed to get your way. Go,_ _Narcissa_ _._  

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “I can’t see him saying no, he seems very determined to do right by the Black family as of late. Making sure the newer generation are all looked after and grow up together sounds like something he’d be on board with.” 

“Have you considered trying for another child soon? While you might still be recovering, Regulus is under no such limits,” she asked slyly, eyes flashing with wicked amusement. Just because the woman was the living embodiment of ‘proper’, didn’t mean she had no sense of humour. Honestly, Narcissa was wasted on a man like Lucius Malfoy. 

Harry smirked back. “He’s not, is he? Well, truth be told, we’re probably going to wait a year or two for things to settle before we try again.”  _Not that there was much conscious trying last time, but_ _I_ _suppose we_ were  _going at it like rabbits._  “There's no need for us to rush, not with how magic lets us age so slowly.” Grabbing a biscuit, Harry grinned at the woman mischievously. “Besides, I don’t want to be too distracted by the girls and miss the opportunity to relish in my husband’s inevitable misery from the ‘joys’ of being pregnant.” 

A tinkling, mirth-filled laugh was the only response he got, making him chuckle in return. He never thought he'd be on friendly terms with Narcissa Malfoy of all people, but he couldn't say he resented the situation in any way. Besides, it was fun fucking around with Lucius. And he kind of owed Narcissa. But mostly the former. 

Footsteps echoing down the hall made the two adults look to the door in unison, watching with interest as a visibly-shocked Lucius strolled in, a hint of excitement flickering in his grey eyes. 

“Narcissa, dear.”  

The blonde man bent down to press a chaste yet loving kiss to his wife's cheek, pulling back to run his fingers through baby Draco's hair with a look of pride on his usually-stern face. He stood up and turned to Harry, his expression considerably warm in comparison to his usual ‘I have no soul’ face that Harry remembered from his younger years. 

“Hadrian. It's good to see you, how have you been? How are the children?” 

Harry pasted a smile on his face, glad that his ability to look polite in the face of utter wankers he hated was one of his most developed skills to date. It was even easier when he knew his lack of visible anger would piss someone off. (And Regulus could shut the fuck up calling him passive-aggressive, his husband was awful when it came to Sirius and giving him dog things as gifts.) 

“I'm good and so are the twins, thanks for asking. What about you, how's work been?” (Not that Harry gave two shits what went on in the Wizengamot, but he supposed it was polite to ask.) 

Lucius smiled at him. “Well, Lord Black's magical primary school is almost ready to run, the property just needs to be warded before it opens next month. I've also been working on a project myself that has finally born fruit. A proposal is all that's left for this stage.” 

The man kissed his wife and stroked his son's hair once more before nodding to Harry. “I apologise for leaving so abruptly, but there is much to do before the next session. It was good to see you, Hadrian. I will be present for dinner, Narcissa.” 

At the accepting nods, the man strode out the room looking far too enthusiastic for Lucius Malfoy.  

_What. The. Fuck._ _Was. That?_  

Harry was ... He didn’t think there were  _any_ words that would fully explain just how fucking confused he was right now. This was  _Lucius Malfoy_ , poncy, stuck-up blonde, the prat who happily join the Death Munchers the first chance he got, the spineless git who offered up his only child to Voldy on a silver platter. He wasn't supposed to be  _smiling_ , and  _polite_ , and actually look  _enthusiastic_ about his work and that of others, and  _seriously what the hell happened to him, he seems_ nice _, is_ _this_ _l_ _i_ _ke a body snatche_ _r_ _s situation or something?_  

Did  _he_ have something to do with this bizarre personality transplant? Was his spur-of-the-moment prank with the Imperius somehow responsible for this insanity? I mean, he was just trying to make the twat uncover what was probably the truth – he didn’t doubt Andromeda’s intelligence for a second – and do something about it, but did he accidentally give the moron some empathy? The ability to feel like a human? Or maybe it was the fact he was no longer playing lap-dog to the Cruciatus-happy psycho he’d been following for years? Harry supposed the majority of his ‘friends’ were now dead or in prison, so he  _was_ kind of free to open up without fear of reprisal. (And Harry still called bullshit on Lucius not being next-door neighbours with the Dementors, but he supposed if the stringent investigations Arcturus had asked for – or forced the government into carrying out, as was probably the case – revealed that Lucius hadn’t actually done anything yet other than offer monetary support under coercion, he couldn’t really say much. It was still kind of weird (and disgusting) that he only joined because his dad made him.  _What a shitty father_.) 

Anyway, Lucius Malfoy was now weird as fuck, had seemingly donned a costume of a decent human being, and the Malfoy family didn’t seem trapped on its previous course to implode in just under two decades.  _Huh. How about that? I was only trying to mess with the prat, not turn him into a politer version of the doting dad_ _James’ll_ _probably end up being._  Harry imagined Draco growing up to be a decent human being and how that might affect his relationships with his peers this time around, including Azalea, and bit his tongue to stifle his hysterics.  _Oh, fucking hell. Imagine if they got together and made James Potter and Lucius Malfoy in-laws. Jesus Christ, that’d be hilarious!_  

A wailing baby broke through his – slightly sadistic – musing, and he watched as Narcissa rocked her son to no avail, Draco’s tiny face scrunched up as he screamed as if he was having a tantrum of sorts. (Now  _this_ Draco was something Harry recognised, all he needed were a couple of goons and some reference to riding daddy’s coattails and they were set.) 

The woman looked up at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, Hadrian. I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut the visit short and tend to Draco, there’s no telling how long this will last.” 

“It’s no problem,” Harry waved her off. “I know what it’s like, trust me. At least you only have one, when one of the girls start, the other always joins in, no exceptions. And let me tell you,  _that_ is something that lasts forever, I swear they play off of each other,” he said wearily. Oh, he loved his children immensely, and they were good most of the time, but when they started crying it was  _relentless_. Thank fuck they weren’t immune to conjured lights and pictures, he and Regulus would be screwed otherwise. 

“Ah, I admit I hadn’t considered that.” Lips twitched with mirth as she stood up, adjusting her hold on the screaming infant. “I guess I shall see you next time, when we get a chance, that is.” 

Harry grinned. “Ah, but you’ve got to come over to mine next time. Carina does need to meet her godmother, after all.” 

Narcissa visibly softened despite the shrill wails echoing around the room and smiled gently. “Yes, I suppose that is true. Thank you again.” 

The emotion in her voice was enough to balance the brief words, and Harry felt reassured that his daughter was going to have a godmother that genuinely cared about her as she grew. It was a nice thought. 

He smiled and bid the woman goodbye, wandering towards the floo as he imagined what his little girls were doing at this moment in time, and whether or not Regulus was coping well with the two infants by themselves. At least they couldn’t walk yet, he supposed. 

Stepping into the fireplace, he remembered Lucius’ words and froze, thinking back to his impulsive compulsion of the blonde a year ago.  _This is going to be hell, isn’t it?_  An image of his husband, unimpressed look and all, came to his mind unbidden and Harry winced thinking of the upcoming conversation. 

_Regulus is going to kill me._  

* * *

“So … I may or may not have done something you’ll think is troublesome. And by ‘troublesome’, I mean is going to cause waves in our society when it inevitably comes to light. Which it probably will, fairly soon if I'm right.” 

All this was delivered with casual nonchalance from the man sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning over their daughters with a wide grin on his face as he waved a couple of brightly-coloured stuffed Kneazles in front of their faces. It was endearing to say the least, not just that Regulus’ husband was a ridiculously attentive father, but also that his children were responding well to things around them. He just knew they were going to continue to prove themselves to be acutely intelligent the more they aged. 

Regulus was heartened to see Carina reach for the pink toy as Lyra was captivated by the deep purple of the other. They might be twins, but they were already showing they were two separate individuals which he was grateful for. He knew that magical identical twins shared a deeper connection with each other in comparison to others, but he didn’t want his daughters assuming they were part of a set or anything, that their entire identity was dependant on having an identical sibling. Lyra was Lyra and Carina was Carina, and while they might have uncanny similarities with one another, they were two separate people. Just like how Harry was more than just the son of James and Lily Potter from another time. 

Except that Harry was a little shit and was beyond hope. 

“What have you done?” he questioned with a flat voice. 

Harry peeked up at him briefly and grinned innocently.  _Too_ innocently. “Well … You remember that whole, ‘I managed to get the mysterious diary from Malfoy without a problem’ thing when we getting rid of Riddle?” He paused and snorted, snickering childishly to himself. “Rid of Riddle. That's going to be stuck in my head now.” At Regulus’ glare, Harry rolled his eyes but carried on. “Anyway, I didn’t tell you, but I’m pretty sure you’ve already figured out that I used the Imperious Curse on the moron to get it done.” 

“Of course not, I had absolutely no clue that’s what you did after you Imperioused my insane cousin who was trained to resist said magic, no clue whatsoever.” 

“And suddenly I’m reminded of our conversation about you and sarcasm all those months ago,” Harry mused while wiggling his fingers at Carina. 

Regulus slipped into French.  _“You’re such an annoying shithead.”_  

_“Love you too, Darling.”_  

The Black huffed and shook his head; this was going nowhere. He looked Harry in the eye and asked, “So? What else aren’t you telling me about what you did to my cousin’s husband?” 

“Funny story actually. Before I ended up in Grimmauld Place, Andromeda told me this theory about muggle-borns and where they get their magic. Like, it could actually be from magical ancestors. So, I had Malfoy Sr. go and test some muggle-borns with their permission before presenting his findings to the Wizengamot. I think he’s done now by the sounds of it, so soon enough everyone’s going to know the truth when he finishes his proposal,” Harry muttered to himself, seemingly lost in thought while he mindlessly shot coloured ribbons out his wand and waved them in front of the intrigued babies, all the while seemingly ignorant to Regulus’ brain shutting down. 

_What have you done?_  

Harry clearly didn’t give a flying fuck about the political ramifications of his actions, but all Regulus could think of was the stuck-up pure-bloods and how they’d react to knowing those ‘inferior’ to them were in fact distant cousins, and that didn’t even bring in the fact that news laws would need drafting over things like guardianship and education. Not to mention the classifications of blood status if this was true – which it probably was – that technically there would be no such thing as a muggle-born if their magic in fact came from someone magical on their family tree. 

Not that Harry obviously cared about causing revelations that destroyed centuries worth of commonly-held beliefs and ideals, all before setting them alight and dancing on the ashes. He was just playing a  _prank_ , what did he care about the fall-out? 

Why did he have to marry an idiot? 

He watched as Harry chuckled and laid on the floor next to the girls, waving his ribbon-covered hand in front of their eyes as he played around. Regulus felt his tension melt at the sight. Yes, Harry had once more done something that had far-reaching consequences, but as long as he passed along some information to his grandfather Arcturus – who was thankfully content not to ask where he or Harry got their information as long as if was reputable;  _thank Merlin for small mercies, it’d be a pain otherwise_  – the older man would probably find some way to ingratiate himself into the project and twist things around to make the family seem better and ensure nothing extreme happened at the knowledge.  _(Seeing as it was only the good graces of Grandfather that let the blonde imbecile marry_ _Cissa_ _, Malfoy doesn’t stand a chance of refusing.)_  

Regulus put aside his paperwork for the school opening next month – which ordinarily would have taken much longer to get up and running, but this was a  _Black_ project, money and cunning went a long way towards greasing the wheels – and stood up, walking over to his family and crouching down to meet amused green eyes head on. 

“You don’t actually care about what you’ve done, do you?” 

Harry cocked his head. “Should I?” 

_Bloody Gryffindors._  

The taller man leaned forward and crawled on top of Harry, laying down carefully so their faces were aligned. He brushed his nose over his husband’s, smirking at how Harry scrunched his nose at the tickling sensation. It was absurdly adorable, in all seriousness. Regulus leaned down, taking care not to squash Harry’s glasses, and pressed their lips together. At the pleased hum he pressed harder, teasing the lips beneath with a brief swipe of his tongue, but ultimately keeping the contact chaste. ‘Intimacy’ and ‘lust’ weren’t synonymous with one another, after all. 

He pulled back slowly and pecked Harry’s smooth cheek, nuzzling the skin and very much appreciating the shiver he elicited. He peered up at Harry’s eyes and smiled genuinely at the affection he saw. Even with the lust he could see, there was no denying that Harry loved him, and not for the first time he wondered what he could have possibly done to deserve such a good man as his spouse. 

Before he could say anything to communicate such thoughts, a sound echoed from their side and two sets of eyes widened simultaneously, green and silver both looking stunned at the noise. They turned to where it came from and lay still, watching in awe at the sound’s origin. 

The girls were laughing. 

High-pitched, squealing giggles came from the twins who were currently staring at their parents, lips stretched across their faces with dimples in their chubby cheeks. Baby-blue eyes were wide and innocent, yet the angelic faces were lit up with simple joy as they laughed at the two adults lying next to them. 

“This is their first time laughing,” Harry said breathlessly, bright green eyes boring into the adorable scene. 

Regulus thought  _everything_ about this scene was magical in a way that had nothing to do with spells and wands. His husband, his two daughters, all of it. He pulled himself off of Harry and sat up, leaning over to pick up Lyra as Harry did the same with Carina. The silver-eyed man buried his nose into the silky-black hair that mirrored his own and grinned, feeling stupidly lucky for finding an unconscious man in his attic the previous year.  

He looked up to see Harry laughing and rubbing his nose against Carina’s, beaming wider and wider the more she laughed, and Regulus couldn’t help but chuckle himself. The sound made Lyra giggle at him and he studied her little face, wondering how her and her sisters’ eyes would change as they got older. He was privately hoping they were as green as Harry’s; Blacks they may be, but Harry was also their father, something he hoped they’d always remember. 

Harry grinned at him over their daughters’ heads and leaned forward, kissing him hard to the sound of baby laughter between them. Regulus closed his eyes and sank into the feeling once more, pushing forward harder than usual to compensate for his hands being busy. 

A few minutes later the kiss tapered off and Harry smiled at him. “I love you, you know.” 

“Hmm, I know. Love you, too.” 

His husband flushed slightly at his serious tone, which was beyond endearing considering everything they’d already been through together. The good, the bad, all of it. It was nice to know that despite everything, a simple confession was sufficient to catch Harry off guard and make him smile shyly like when Regulus started flirting with him.  _Though speaking of the bad …_  

“But just because I love you doesn’t mean we won’t be having words about this thing with Malfoy.” 

Harry just blinked at him before grinning sheepishly, lowering his head to bury his amused face in Carina’s hair. Regulus just rolled his eyes at the simple evasion. 

_Why do I even bother?_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> A belated Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year!
> 
> I know this hasn't been updated in a while and I'm sorry for that. I think my resolution this year should be not to start so many fics at once lol. At least not publish them, anyway.
> 
> So ... we have all the babies! And yeah, baby Harry is a girl because I find the idea of Regulus mocking him hilarious. And he and Sirius are totally mature adults ;)
> 
> Another thing, do you guys mind if I maybe skipped a year or two at some point? I have plans for the Black family tree - hint hint ;) - and I think it'd be nice to get into some more of it.
> 
> Anyway, I'm sorry again this chapter took so long. When I finally got around to starting it, I was aiming for a quick 3000-ish words to put out, but I just kept writing and writing and delaying it. But better late than never, I suppose. Maybe?
> 
> See ya next time, and happy reading!


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